


Begonias: a Pokemon Fanfiction

by MasterKnight2142



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Fusion, Banter, Drama, Dystopia, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterKnight2142/pseuds/MasterKnight2142
Summary: Fear: a primal instinct all have. Some know to control it. But for most - it leads to a self-sacrifice of free-will and morals. And in a city of dystopia, prejudice, enslavement, persecution, corruption, and a hand-full of walls protecting inhabitants from the outside world, all eyes begin to wonder if it's only a set of words to say, "It's worse outside the walls than in."
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	1. A Simple Withdrawal

([ DeviantArt ](https://www.deviantart.com/pokedeviant2000/journal/City-of-Begonias-Table-of-Contents-831728070))

([ FanFition.net ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13509418/1/City-of-Begonias))  
  


## Chapter I

## A Simple Withdrawal

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**T** **HE AIR** was as stagnant and devoid of as much moisture as it had ever been. The cobblestone road was hot, but not enough to burn the bottoms of the flareon’s paws. No, instead, it brought a warmth to his body. As he walked down the pavement, he watched the quaint houses and waved to the pokemon who bathed in the sun whilst laying in the grass. And if they happened to notice him, he would pull on the strap to his brand-new satchel – made from orange, polished leavanny leaves and sewn together from their soft silk.

It was something of the latest fashion for the Fire District. Everyone seemed to want it, but they were seasonal and hard to come by. Luckily for him, his wife had bought it months ahead of time. All he had to do was wait for it to arrive in the mail.

Walking with the satchel hanging from his shoulder made him giddy: like he was a model who should be watched in all his splendor.

Passing fire pokemon would stop in their tracks, each smiling and waving at him as they clutched their own leaved bags: theirs being unique and beautiful in their own way, but nothing like his.

Some would ask about where he was headed to, or if he was off for work today: never about the bag, but he could feel their eyes would always drift down to view it with a cheerful, yet envious look to them. And it only brought more joy to him.

And why shouldn’t they take envy in this bag? And why shouldn’t he take joy in their envy? Life was good to him! It gave him a great job that paid a lot of money: money he used on luxuries. And he fought to keep it that way. So, why he shouldn’t he enjoy the splendid feeling of making others long for his life?

As he strode down the street, he passed by the brand-new park that the Council had put in. Children were laughing and chasing each other around slides, monkey-bars, and tables. Each were grinning from ear-to-ear as parents conversed with one another from benches nearby.

He thought about how that would be him in a few weeks’ time: sitting on a bench with his wife by his side. He imagined the pink bassinette where his baby would lie as they all enjoyed the sun’s warmth. Thinking about such things gave him a warm smile.

“Luis!” a friendly voice hollered from the Flareon’s side.

Luis turned to see the long, familiar face of his friend Max who he gave a smile before walking to greet him with a firm shake of the paw.

“It’s been too long,” Luis said, running his eyes across the heatmor’s neck to see a pink, gleaming scarf with heart-shaped patterns wrapped around his neck. “Meet anyone last night?” he asked, gesturing to the scarf.

“Nah, I just like the pink,” Max joked.

Luis chuckled aloud. It had been ages since they’d seen one another: maybe a month, now.

“We should get together sometime,” the flareon said hopefully. “Say, next week?”

“I’d love to,” Max said. “But me and my old lady just picked up a fresh G. T. and it isn’t in any condition to be brought in the house. Gotta break it in first, wear it out a little, then put it to work, you know?”

Luis nodded, remembering the first time he’d bought one. “They’re nightmares to start out with used, but yours is new?”

“It just needs to be house-broken, first,” Max replied, rotating his arm. “Trust me: my dad used to work on them _all_ the time when I was younger. He taught me how it works, and it hasn’t let me down, yet.”

“Well, good luck with that,” Luis said. He sighed, looking down the street with a pensive look. “Well, I’ve gotta go to the bank before work, and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“But that road leads to the Center…” Max had a look of realization dawn on his face as he slowly nodded. “Oh. So, lightning did hit our bank did, and it wasn’t just a rumor.”

"Hence… why I’m going to the Center,” Luis said slowly. He shuddered thinking about it as if it would shake his worries from his back. He then donned a cheery smile.

Just before Luis turned to leave, Max spoke up with, “Be careful out there today, huh? I heard something happened over in the Psychic District a few weeks back: something about a group of thugs kicking the crap out of pokemon at a bar.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Luis said dismissively, trying to ignore the warning.

“I mean, I get that each of the fifteen districts have their part to play in keeping the city together, but damn it all to hell that most of them are meat grinders of hate and discrimination against us! I mean, one step and-”

“Alright, Max!” Luis yelled over the heatmor, rage and worry overtaking his face.

He had heard all the stories about the other districts before: “Fire-Types Murdered in the Ground District over Discrimination;” “Flying District Deemed Too Dangerous for Ice-Types to Enter;” “Child of Age Eight Taken from Parents during Family Trip to the Center.” He knew there was danger out there, and he didn’t need Max reminding him.

Luis felt the eyes of the other pokemon on the street turn towards him: the children who had stopped playing to see what was going on. Max even looked shocked about the sudden outburst.

Luis cleared his throat before regaining his composure. He spoke slowly with, “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine. It’s a short trip, anyway.”

As he turned from Max, he gave one final smile and a wave of his paw before making his way down the street towards a white, stone wall, leaving his friend in a state of worry and confusion.

~ ~ ~

It was a tall wall that wrapped itself around the Fire District. There was only one entrance and one exit to their sanctuary, and it was through a building embedded in the side of the wall: the same building Luis made towards.

Getting out of the checkpoint was simple enough. All he did was walk towards one of the glass exit gates situated at the back of the building, pull his card out from his satchel, and insert it into a hole in the wall. Then, with a whir from the wall, the glass doors opened into the other side of the wall.

They called this place The Center, but Luis thought it was more of a dump than anything. The government did its best to maintain the area – keep it as a place of meeting between types to lessen segregation – but that meant strict rules and Steel Enforcers constantly patrolling the streets: something Luis couldn’t live with had this been his home. The thought of a bunch of steel pokemon walking around, enforcing their will upon anyone they deemed “delinquent” was one thing no fire-type could stand.

No, to Luis, the Center was merely an inconvenient stop: a culmination of tragic lives and stories shared by pokemon who weren’t as lucky as he was. And that luck would hold through today. He wouldn’t be here long. He was going to be fine.

From that point onwards, it was a pretty straight shot across the street towards the big, white building with the imprint of a Persian plastered to the wall above glass doors. Below the imprint sat the glistening, golden letters which wrote out: “Persian’s Personal Bank.”

As the Flareon walked down the street, he felt the chill of the wall which bathed the dirt road with shadows and cold. The air smelled and tasted like old sweat and feet while the walls looked grungy: like they hadn’t been cleaned in months. He became very aware of the alleys which rested between buildings that rose five-stories up on all sides. He told himself that they were stable places of work for the pokemon that wanted to better their lives like him. _This is only a stop before heading back into the district,_ he thought.

Then he noticed the six, intimidating, Steel-type pokemon guarding the street whilst lurking around the front of the bank. A couple of them paced between the Fire district’s entrance and the bank, watching ahead for anything out of the ordinary. It soothed the Flareon to see them, knowing the Steel Enforcers were there to ward off anybody asinine enough to attack. Not that that meant The Enforcers could do so in the Fire District.

~ ~ ~

When he arrived at the bank, he walked through the doors to the greeting of a friendly “Welcome!” and pokemon of all different types who sat in chairs, waiting for their turn in line.

His eyes set on massive pokemon who were currently sitting: pokemon like haxorus and krookodile. Their eyes were set on sports magazines the bank provided its patrons while they waited.

Luis imagined a scene that might play out before him were he not to be careful. He imagined the beady eyes of pokemon – red with malice – slowly turn from their magazines and set on him. They then stood up and walked over to him, brandishing their thick, muscular arms.

He gulped in worry, blinked himself back into reality, and turned towards a line of pokemon who waited for their turn to make deposits and withdrawals. He became very aware of his satchel as he made his way to the front of the line, skipping a multitude of pokemon. He heard one of the tellers holler “Next” before making his way towards her as quick as he could, cutting in front of a gardevoir who barked at him in frustration.

“And what can I do for you, sir?” the teller, a hitmontop with a tag that read “Britney,” asked, ignoring the gardevoir’s complaints completely.

“I’m from the fire district,” Luis explained nervously, telling himself that this was already soon to be over. “And our bank was struck by lightning a few weeks back.”

“And you need to withdraw some money from this one?” Britney the teller asked. She then pointed towards a wooden door with a frosted-glass window on her left. “The manager of the bank is in that room taking requests for pokemon of your district. He’s meeting with a few pokemon now, but if you’ll wait by those doors, he’ll be sure to help you when he’s finished.”

“Thank you very much,” the flareon said as he left the counter, making his way for the door.

As he approached, he took a deep breath to try and calm down: something his father had taught him as a way of calming himself. He stood by the door, waiting anxiously for it to open. As he waited, he caught the gardevoir give him a murderous look as she walked up to the teller. Looking around, it seemed others had seen the altercation, burrowing into his nerves with their merciless scowls. It made Luis nervous enough to set his paw on the door.

You’re fine. No one’s going to attack. The stories are just stories.

He wondered what would happen next. Would his name just be one more on the morning’s paper? Would memories of his life be the only things left for him? It was getting to be unbearable.

He glanced towards the door as if it were an escape from this place. _He… probably wouldn’t mind if I waited inside,_ he reasoned.

His grip tightened on the door and pulled it open, quickly stepping into the room beyond.

“Mr. Manager, sir?” Luis said, finding himself in a room with orange wallpaper and potted plants placed in the corners. There were no windows, the only source of light being a chandelier and lamp resting on a mahogany desk. Behind the desk sat a very pale, sweaty, white sandslash who wore a black vest – obviously the manager – as what appeared to be a giant lizard (dusty, olive with a steel-blue stomach and jagged spikes protruding from its shoulders and the back of its head) stood above the him, wearing a brown cape that wrapped itself around his shoulders.

 _A… tyranitar?_ Luis thought in awe. He had heard stories about the pokemon – how it was a powerful beast of incredible stature – but had never seen one before, nor did he think he ever would. He continued to stare in wonder before his eyes drifted down to what appeared to be a damaged, rapier sword clutched in one of its hands – the tip of the blade leveled with the sandslash’s chest.

Luis immediately froze in place, confused for merely seconds about what he had walked into before he went to scream for help, taking a step backwards towards the exit. A set of red claws wrapped around the scruff of his neck, yanking him left and out of view from anyone outside the room before his jaw snapped shut as his captor covered his mouth with its black hands.

He heard the door close behind him before the sandslash took in a panicked breath of air.

“Well, _that_ complicates things,” a voice said from the corner of the room. Luis looked to find that, hiding along the wall just out of sight from anyone opening the door, stood a female meowstic with tattered, white fur wearing a golden chain and a granbull who wore a ripped-up, red bandana, both pokemon packing worn short-swords and sheaths of their own.

“No shit it complicates things!” the pokemon holding Luis said, its head curled over him in annoyance. Luis squeaked in fear when he realized he was in the grip of a full-grown Noivern: a pokemon of the type that eats others for the hell of it.

“Calm down,” the granbull said. “No one else saw anything.” It looked towards the Meowstic for confirmation, her ears slightly perked as her eyes glowed a bright shade of pink.

“At the very least they’re not panicking outside,” the meowstic replied, returning to normal before scowling at the Noivern. “But that’s only luck.”

“Just keep him quiet and out of the way,” the tyranitar said calmly. “The plan will work.”

“And how long is this plan going to take now that there’s another witness?” the Noivern said impatiently.

The tyranitar looked back at the Bank Manager, prodding him with the sword. The manager gasped in fear as the sword’s tip punctured his vest.

“My associate has a good point, sir,” the tyranitar calmly said. “Keep in mind that we’re all busy pokemon.”

“You won’t be able to get into the Safety Despite Box!” the manager sputtered worriedly. “Even if I gave you the key, you won’t be able to get it out of here without being caught!”

The tyranitar grinned down at the sandslash. “If there’s no scene, the tin-heads won’t stop us,” it said with an almost believable sincerity to its voice. “But even if there was, believe me when I say we can take care of things on our end.”

It leaned in, removing the sword’s tip from the manager’s vest, tapping the blade on his shoulders. The manager looked away, his breath shaking with fear as he shut his eyes tightly.

“The key,” the tyranitar insisted calmly.

“Alright!” the manager cried, quickly reaching into his vest’s pocket to produce a ring holding a massive array of keys. He reached down and plucked one of the keys off the ring and held it up to the tyranitar. Yet it didn’t make a move to take the key.

“Sir, you have to understand that, as first-time customers to the bank, we’re not entirely sure where to find the box. And you’re still on the clock, are you not?”

“Th-the safety deposit boxes are numbered!” the sandslash yelped. “You don’t n-need me to help find it!”

“Change of plans,” the tyranitar said, turning to face his compatriots. “Randal, you and Joy stay here. Me, Pat, and the Manager are making the withdrawal.”

“You’ve got to be joking, right?” the Noivern protested. “This Spitfire isn’t going anywhere! I say we leave him here!”

“We can’t trust him to make it into the vault without doing something reckless.” The tyranitar seemed to direct that comment towards Luis which made him shrink in fear. “And if things go south and we get separated – which let’s face it, they usually do – you’re going to need backup.”

The noivern shook his head, grumbling something to himself about hating babysitting. The granbull nodded to the tyranitar as the meowstic walked towards the manager.

“As for you,” the tyranitar began, smiling at the manager. “You’re job’s… pretty simple.” He nodded assuredly before saying, “All you need to do is walk with us through the vault door, open the safe with your keys, and then sit tight. We’ll do the rest.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” the meowstic said sassily. “You’re hoping the teller asks you about us, wondering why you’re taking us to the vault. Then, you’ll tell her a phrase that says, ‘Help! Robbers!’” She threw her arms up dramatically, making a low, screeching sound in the back of her voice.

The manager’s eyes widened as his teeth started chattering in horror at the meowstic.

“How did I know?” she asked. “Even an ice-pop like you should realize that we meowstic are psychic.”

Luis saw the tyranitar sneak a glance of confusion at the meowstic.

“A-alright!” the manager said, standing from his chair swiftly. “I understand! One option left for me, so I’ll help!”

“If you don’t, we’ll eat you,” the Noivern said with a grin. His comment attracted stupefied looks from all three of his compatriots. Even the manager seemed to look at him, dumbfounded by the statement. The noivern’s smile faded into a confused look of his own as he asked, “What?”

“And what about the Spitfire?” the granbull asked, nodding towards Luis who whimpered in fear for being called to light. As the tyranitar looked at him, Luis began shaking in fear, his eyes widening as his mind brought his family to the forefront of his thoughts. Was this his imminent death? Would they kill him for catching them in the act?

The tyranitar sighed as he looked down to the meowstic. “I know it takes a lot of energy out of you, but could you-” he began.

“Of course,” the meowstic said.

She began raising her paw towards Luis. He started to panic, struggling to get out of the Noivern’s grip. He shot embers from his mouth in a last-ditch effort to get the beast off him. Tears began pouring down his cheeks as he realized this was the end. “I have a family!” he tried to plead, screaming through the Noivern’s claws, but it came out no louder than a whisper. “I won’t say a word! Just please! I don’t want to die! Let me live!”

The meowstic’s eyes widened quickly as its rabbit-like ears flopped open, revealing a new set of orange eyes which pierced through every emotion the flareon had. It shredded all his doubts and worries, leaving an almost calming feeling originating from his brain and spreading its warmth throughout his body. It was a strange feeling: like an inescapable ecstasy.

Colors began to blur together before his eyes, leaving images of splotched browns, blues, and yellows. He felt his legs go numb and limp before he collapsed. He knew he should have been falling forwards, but he didn’t. And he didn’t care. Strange as it is, he felt like a child again: enwrapped in a new world full of new, exciting places to explore and vibrant colors to see.

And the best part was that this room provided exactly what he sought. Every wall seemed to be flowing with colors which snaked themselves towards the center of the room, blinding his sights to all the pokemon around him. He tried to think of a word to describe it all – one to tie these feelings with – but he found he could care less. It was too mesmerizing: almost overwhelming.

Luis limply lied there in the noivern’s arms, astounded by everything that was happening in his mind.

“Remind me again why we can’t just leave him here?” the noivern asked as the meowstic leaned on the table for support. The tyranitar’s face winced in worry for the meowstic.

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a small smile.

“What did you do to him…?” the bank manager asked, looking at the now drooling flareon.

“Same thing she’ll do to you if you don’t cooperate,” the granbull said flatly. “So, move.”

The bank manager didn’t need to be told twice, making his way quickly for the doorway. He reached for the handle before the tyranitar placed its hand on his shoulder.

“Relax,” it assured. “We’ll be out of your hair as soon as you give us what we came for, understand?”

~ ~ ~

At 1700 Hours, the Center’s Department of Law Enforcement received a frantic call from a bank located on the east side of the Center: right next to the Fire District. The call went out that there was a group of unidentified thieves who had robbed the bank and were out on the streets. The owner of the bank insisted on the Sergeant coming down and investigating herself.

She heaved a deep sigh, walking past the array of Steel Enforcers, knowing full-well that those Chrome-Heads were the reason the criminals got away. They were the reason she was called away from her usual routine and forced to mop up a mess that wasn’t hers.

“Fifteen years running this town as Police Sergeant, and the Council thinks they can do better with a militia?” the ursaring Sergeant asked as she reached down into her brown, cloth satchel, picking up a carton of cigarettes and a match. She removed one of the cigarettes, struck the match, and began puffing smoke. “What a fucking joke.”

The ursaring removed the sunglasses from her face and set them in the collar of her blue uniform before walking into the building. Looking around the bank, she was starting to understand why this was as big of a deal as they were making it out to be. If the manager hadn’t reported the robbery, this might have gone completely unnoticed. If only he had included who did the robbing before the shock of almost dying settled in.

A pignite wearing a blue vest and a silver badge quickly waddled next to the Police Sergeant. Sweat beaded his face as he looked cautiously around the room. The Sergeant chuckled to herself. Looking at him, it was easy to tell he was a rookie: one she decided to train herself.

“Look around the room, Spitfire,” she said. “What do you see?”

The pignite nodded once before carefully observing the room.

“Well…” he started, hesitating to give an answer. There was nothing unusual about the room as far as he could tell. “I see… a bank’s lobby.”

“And is there any blood in this lobby?” the Sergeant asked.

“Not that I can see.”

“And what about the chairs?”

The pignite looked at her with a bit of confusion. “The… chairs?”

“Look at them,” she said, pointing to the rows of cheap, metallic chairs which had been repainted white multiple times, giving it blotches where the old coats had rubbed off.

The pignite shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re getting at. They’re just chairs.”

“What’s the first rule about crime scenes?” she urged, attempting to lead him into the answer she was looking for.

“Don’t touch anything that you don’t need to,” he answered.

“And look: no touching has been done. Everything’s the same as when we arrived: minus the officers inside the building.”

She walked over to one of the chairs and hovered her hand over the surface, petting the air around it as if it were a cat.

“The chairs are lined up perfectly, the glass is intact, there’s no damage done to the safe, walls, or floor.”

The rookie’s eyes tensed in a knowing look. “No signs of a struggle.”

“Or a panic. They got in and out quickly and smoothly, no one even noticing.”

“Quickly?” the pignite asked. “How do you know?”

“The Chrome-Heads interrogated everyone who was here, and hardly any of them remember seeing a group of four.”

The pignite looked back towards the bank’s exit.

“Don’t worry about it,” the sergeant said with a smile. “They won’t attack an officer for name-calling.”

“Still…” the pignite said with a pensive scowl before turning back towards the bank.

“As for this robbery,” the sergeant said, grinning widely. “This was professional. They came in quietly, forced the manager to work with them for a few minutes, then locked the vault door behind them as they left, trapping him inside. They left without anyone suspecting a thing.”

“What about cameras? Wouldn’t they have caught the perps?”

The Sergeant chuckled to herself. “Spit-fire, you might come from a place where fancy things like cameras are easy to get ahold of, but most of the city can only afford to put food on a plate.”

The pignite frowned slightly before sighing.

"Don’t worry about it,” the Sergeant said. “You just need to keep in mind-”

“Sergeant Lynn!” one of the officers called from a room to the left of the counter.

The Sergeant heaved a sigh. She gave the rookie a look that said, “See what I have to deal with?” before walking into the next room.

"What is it?” she asked, finding a bidoof officer looking seriously at a flareon who wore an orange-leaved satchel. It seemed to hardly be conscious, blinking frequently and holding its head with a paw.

“Who’s this?” the ursaring asked.

“Luis…” Luis said wearily.

“What happened to him?” Sergeant Lynn asked.

The bidoof frowned at the flareon in pity, saying, “One of the robbers – a meowstic, he said – used some sort of psychic attack on him: made him feel like he was on drugs. It really messed him up, but he’ll be fine.”

“He was there during the attack,” the rookie realized, turning towards his Sergeant. “He saw who did it.” He leaned towards the flareon in curiosity and intrigue. Since they had arrived, not much had been made available to them in terms of evidence. This might be the witness they needed.

“Was one of the robbers a tyranitar?” the sergeant asked Luis.

Both officers looked towards their sergeant with surprise. Luis, however, shut his eyes tightly, curling himself into a shuddering ball on the floor in fear.

“We’re done here,” the sergeant said as she turned to leave the room.

“Wait, what?” the rookie asked, walking by the sergeant’s side. “But you’ve only asked one question, and he didn’t even answer you.”

“Then was it an indoor breeze that made him curl up?”

The pignite’s face froze, feeling foolish for his statement.

“He gave us all we need to know,” Sergeant Lynn said, her and the pignite exiting the bank into the street, the air chillier than usual from the setting sun. “We know there was a meowstic, and by the reaction to my question, a tyranitar.”

"So?” the pignite asked.

"You haven’t been outside fire-type territory for very long, so I’m letting you off the hook this time. But something you need to learn about the Center is it’s notorious criminals: four of which are exceedingly dangerous and very good at getting out of tough situations.”

"They’re the ones that robbed the bank?” the pignite asked.

"A meowstic, a noivern, a granbull, and a tyranitar – their leader.”

"I'm finding it hard to believe that last part,” the rookie said. “I thought the tyranitar population was killed off when…” He trailed off at the end, finding it hard to get the words out.

"While that may be true for most, there are still pokemon that survived the purge: dangerous pokemon that shouldn’t be taken lightly. Understand?”

The pignite nodded quickly in understanding. “So… there’s a tyranitar,” he said. “What now?”

"Now?” Sergeant Lynn asked calmly, putting on her sunglasses. “Now, we do nothing.”

The pignite reared his head in slight shock. “Nothing?” he asked. “But ma’am-”

"I know this group,” Lynn interrupted. “They’re smart, trained, and organized. If this was them, then all we can do is wait for some evidence that was left in the bank and hope it tells us where they are in this massive city.”

"We’re not following them?” the rookie said frantically.

"If you know where to look, then lead on.”

"We could…” he began, visibly racking his brain for an answer, but couldn’t think of one.

"The city’s too big, and they’re too smart for us to just run into them on the street. Looking without evidence isn’t going to do anything for us.”

"So, we wait…” the pignite said with a sigh, wearing an irritated scowl.

"That’s all we can do,” Lynn said. “Just wait.”

~ ~ ~

(Author’s Notes)

Loving that I’m back to writing again! And I’m excited for you guys to get invested in everything!

Not much to say other than what’s above.

Leave a comment and a favorite if you can!

Thanks for reading, everyone! I’ll see you guys in the next chapter.

P. S. I’m connecting my DeviantArt account with this one for anyone interested in the art I’ve been working on.


	2. A Drink to Failure

## Chapter II

## A Drink to Failure

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**AS THE GROUP** made their way down the dirt path, they exchanged successful smiles and joyful cheers with one another. The tyranitar held his satchel tightly beneath his cloak and out of sight of watchful eyes: the sealed package resting comfortably in the empty bag.

“I still can’t believe you fooled the manager into believing you could read his mind!” the noivern cackled aloud, covering his eyes as he howled with laughter. “Genius move!”

“I was surprised as well,” the granbull admitted with a small smile. “You, Pat, are one deceptive meowstic.”

Pat shrugged it off. “It wasn’t that big of a deal,” she simply stated, though her grin and blushing face made it clear to everyone she was very much enjoying this.

“But it was,” the tyranitar stated. “To be honest, I didn’t know where you were going with that, but you made that manager too afraid to do anything.”

“Other than piss himself,” The noivern chuckled.

“Stop!” Pat urged, shyly pawing at the air.

“Alright, now I have to ask,” the noivern began. “It’s about your eye… ear… thingies.”

“Randy,” the granbull, Joy, said with a warning glance in his direction.

“Is it true that they make your psychic powers strong enough to crush a pokemon’s skull with a thought?”

“Gah!” the granbull grunted playfully. “Randal!”

“Babe, come on!” Randal said with a smile. “I’ve heard rumors that they can! I was just wondering is all.”

“Rumors?” the tyranitar asked with a grin. “And you believed them?”

“Of course, he did,” Pat teased. “He’s Randal: half badass, half idiot.”

“Hey!” Randal protested.

Everyone other than Randal busted out laughing in the middle of the street, catching the eyes of onlookers. Yet that did not bother them; they were use to it by now.

Pokemon would shoot them cold glances regardless of whether they were being loud or silent. It was just in the nature of the Center for pokemon to be cold and judgy.

“Ha ha,” Randal said with a bit of annoyance in his voice. “I expected that from Pat, but from you, Harry?”

“We’re just messing,” Pat said, wiping her face of the tears. “But I’ll admit, there are a lot of misconceptions about us.

“To answer honestly, no; I can’t crush someone’s skull with my mind. The eyes on the inside of my ears only boost my powers just a little higher than any regular psychic pokemon, but it does take a lot of energy out of a meowstic’s system.”

“It saved our hides today,” the granbull said. “That flareon would have said something sooner or later.”

“Thanks, Joy,” Pat said with a bright smile, punching the granbull’s arm playfully. Joy merely nodded, showing she shared the same feelings.

“That reminds me,” Randal began. “What the hell were we even taking in the first place?”

“Right,” Harry said with a playful scowl in Randal and Joy’s direction. “You and Joy weren’t there.”

“We _were_ out for our anniversary,” Joy countered.

“So?” Randal asked Harry. “What did we just steal?”

“Documents,” Harry said, patting the bag at his side.

“Documents on what?” Joy asked.

Harry and Pat both smiled brightly, looking at their friends as though this were his favorite Christmas present. “A ticket out West.”

“They’re detailed plans of the Fire and Ice Districts made by the architects,” Pat stated. “Blueprints on every house, every condo, and every mansion there.”

“And most importantly,” Harry said with a beaming grin. “Signed deeds for each house in the districts.”

Randal’s face immediately became ecstatic as he literally howled into the darkening sky with delight. Joy merely smile expectantly at Harry as if wanting him to confirm once more that this was what they needed.

Randal then started chanting, “We’re number one!” as he pumped his fist in the sky. Pat joined in the chanting and clapping along to the beat Randal provided, followed by Harry, and eventually Joy. Their voices carried through joyous echoes down the darkening alleyways as they chanted their victory.

“Open it!” Randal shouted, driving his fist skyward as he looked towards Harry.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Harry said, caught off-guard but still smiling. “We can’t.”

“Why not?” Pat questioned, pushing Harry playfully.

“I want to open it, too,” Harry started. “But we all know that Draggs wanted us all in the same room before it happens to make sure we don’t damage anything.”

“Open it!” both Randal and Pat began chanting whilst clapping to each syllable. Their sneers refused to fade as they continued. “Open it! Open it!”

Harry rolled his eyes at the two. This wasn’t the smartest thing to do given Draggs was technically their employer; what he says goes. Harry looked towards Joy for some sort of way out of his friend’s peer pressure, but she offered no help, merely shrugging at him.

“Oh, come on,” Harry said as he spread his arms.

“There’s no harm in it,” Joy said simply. “He’ll get exactly what he wants regardless.”

“Down with shitty rules!” Randal shouted.

Harry shook his head as he waved his arms shouting, “Alright! Alright! Alright!”

Both Randal and Pat lowered their voices and looked eagerly towards Harry for an answer. They both knew the odds were against them, but they didn’t care.

“I hear your complaints,” Harry began. “And…” He paused as if contemplating the options. To Harry, stress came from the others putting him on the spot like this; but for Randal and Pat, it was hope. “And I have to agree. Just this once, to hell with the rules. Let’s open it!”

The whooping and hollering once again erupted from the two pokemon as Joy just laughed and shook her head. Harry grinned broadly at his friends whilst he reached into the bag and felt around his knife for the big, square package. When he had it in his grip, he pulled it out and poked a hole into the top with his claw before dragging it through the paper, tearing the package open. As he glanced inside, he found the blue papers resting securely inside. He removed one of the sheets of paper and began looking it over, his heart racing with excitement.

His eyes ran along the sheet of blue paper, seeing the white outlines of streets and tall buildings labelled by bold, white names. It felt too perfect for Harry to have this document in his hands that his eyes couldn’t decide where to settle first.

After a few seconds of scanning the page, he found a word that caught his eyes along with a familiar building. Harry’s smile began to fade slowly from his face as he continued to scan the page more intently. A pit began forming in his stomach as an ever-increasing number of words stood out to him.

“Wait…” he said, seriousness plaguing his voice. That single word and his lack of enthusiasm was enough to suck the life from the group.

“Wait?” Randal asked. He scoffed at Harry. “Wait for what?”

Harry allowed the page to fall out of his hands, leading to shocked looks from his colleagues. Yet he didn’t allow them to deter him from removing another page to look over it.

Pat saw the emotion in Harry’s eyes as his gaze drifted between the page to the buildings around them.

“Harry?” Joy said.

“You’re freakin’ us out over here,” Pat said worriedly.

Harry began panting, his face becoming devoid of all joy. His heartbeat against his chest as the pit in his stomach seemed to expand into a lifeless void. He looked from the page to the buildings with frustration. “Damn it…” he said under his breath. He pulled out the last two pages from the package and scanned them, looking towards the buildings as he read.

The pit inside became unbearable, forcing Harry to his knees as he shut his eyes tightly in frustration. He beat on the pavement with his arms, crushing the pages in his grip. The earth shook as giant pillars of stone erected themselves through the pavement in front of the group, making everyone but Harry recoil in fear and shock. “Damn it all!” Harry roared.

“Harry?!” Pat questioned frantically. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Randal walked up to the tyranitar and reached down for one of the pages. He ran his eyes over the lines with a grim expression.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me!” Randal shouted in disbelief.

“That blueprint’s not for the Fire or Ice District, is it?” Joy asked grimly, scowling at the sky.

Pat reared her head towards Joy in horror. “That can’t be true,” she said. “It can’t-”

“It’s for the damn Center!” Randal shouted as he kicked at the ground with his heels. “All of that trouble and planning and effort just so we can grab the wrong damn documents?!?”

“We didn’t grab the wrong documents!” Harry snarled into the floor. “Draggs told us to get into the box 2142, and I made sure we did!”

“It was a set-up,” Joy said, lowering her scowling face to the ground.

Pat shook her head in skepticism. “N-no… No, Draggs wouldn’t do that to us. He’s been helping us fight for years. Why would he stop, now?”

“When I find him,” Randal growled with a sneer. “I’m gonna eat that son-of-a-bitch.”

“How could I be so stupid?!” Harry shouted.

“This isn’t your fault,” Joy said sincerely.

There was a minuscule part of Harry that agreed. This wasn’t his fault. Draggs had been feeding them information and missions regarding the Fire District for months now. He contributed to the team’s success just as much as any one of them. But a titan of guilt brought by logical thinking overshadowed his belief that he was innocent.

“Draggs is part of the Dusk before anything!” Harry grumble through clenched teeth. “Regardless of whether he _was_ a reliable informant, his duties were always with his group, and _their_ goals aren’t _ours_! He was bound to betray us eventually: lie to us so we’d do his dirty work! And I believed him!” Harry beat his arm on the ground once more, summoning more stones in his frustration.

“So… he was just using us to get that document,” Pat said. Her face tensed into a scowl. “I thought… he was with us…” Pat clenched her fist as disappointment rose in her chest. Tears rose in her stinging eyes. “This was supposed to change our lives… This was supposed to get us out west. But… what now?”

Harry didn’t answer. He felt like his heart was shattering all over again. His emotions were flying off the rails in his head. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to harm – to maim – to murder.

Harry gave a deep sigh and stood up. He looked down the street at the stone spines protruding from the ground in front of him with a pensive stare.

“Enforcers are probably going to be here in a few minutes,” Harry said with a surprising calmness to his voice, staring at the stones ahead. “You should all leave.”

“And you?” Joy questioned.

“I’m going to get a drink.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Randal shouted. “We find out Draggs lied to us and sent us on a murder mission, and you want a drink?”

Randal’s eyes widened in shock as he saw Harry take the first steps to leave them behind. It pissed him off to no ends to see the tyranitar not only ignore him but walk away.

“What?” Randal snarled, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. “Is being leader suddenly too hard for you-”

Harry’s face became a mesh of hate and anger as he spun around and planted his fist in Randal’s stomach.

Both Joy and Pat gasped as Randal started coughing. He grabbed at his chest before he doubled over, wheezing and gasping for air.

“Harry-” Pat began caringly, making her way towards the tyranitar, but felt herself firmly held in place by the arm. Turning around, Pat found Joy’s fuzzy hand clenched the meowstic’s wrist.

“What are you doing?” Pat asked.

Joy said nothing, simply standing there and watching as Harry towered over Randal.

“I’m getting a drink!” Harry snapped. “If you want to complain about it some more, why don’t you try to get up and tell me again how I _can_ and _can’t_ handle this situation!”

Randal couldn’t respond or make a move, still clutching his stomach as he tried to breathe. Harry grimaced and stomped his foot in visible frustration before storming off down the road, leaving Pat, Joy, and Randal in shocked silence.

“Damn it, Randal,” Joy reproached softly, walking towards the noivern and kneeling to help him on his feet.

“I just… don’t understand him sometimes…” Randal said through a strained voice. “Why would he leave us like that? He’s supposed to… lead us, you know? But now he’s abandoning us?”

Joy sighed and shook her head. “For once in your life, think about the bigger picture,” she implored Randal. “I know for us this was our chance to start everything over, but for Harry… This was more to him than just walking away.”

Pat lowered her head, knowing Joy was right. “This was his chance to move on…”

Randal looked down the road towards Harry, contemplating what the girls had said. To them, this was a chance to leave behind their shitty world and live in peace. But… wasn’t that Harry’s motivation, as well? When he understood what they meant, he sighed. “Well, shit.”

~ ~ ~

Harry scowled towards the floor as he trudged through the muddy streets. The air smelled like blood and depression. The clouds had passed overhead in the time he spent walking, blocking out any light the now moon-filled sky may have shed. He relied on the light cast by the remaining, working lamp posts: that, and his abilities as a Dark-type.

_How could I be this stupid?_ he thought, slapping the side of his head with a paw. _Of course, he betrayed us: used us! Draggs was working for the Dusk the entire time, and I let myself ignore that! And why?! So… we could get away from this hell hole? So… I could fight…?_

“Damn it!” he shouted as he kicked a stray can littering the sidewalk. It clinked around for a bit before it came to rest in front of an open door about as plain as a board of wood. The building itself wasn’t much either: merely a grey hole-in-the-wall with a big, uneven sign hanging above its entrance that read in big, red letters, “Harley’s Diner”.

Harry stopped in his tracks, hearing a slow, peaceful tune floating from the door out into the street. It was soothing but also saddening in an odd, familiar way. It brought up memories Harry hadn’t contemplated in a long while: memories of family, friends, acquaintances…

He recalled a scene of his old home: a simple cave dug out from the wall of a pit in the ground. He remembered spending entire holidays in his hay-stuffed bed just because he could. He remembered playing with friends on the cold, smooth, and oddly comfortable floor as his cousin would prod him playfully with a stick demanding they let him join in the fun.

Harry tried to keep the memories at bay with a shake of his head before stumbling forwards through the door.

He entered a giant, familiar room with wooden walls decorated in pictures and random stains. The floor was hardly any better seeing as crumbs and alcoholic beverages littered its glossy coat. A bar along the left side of the diner occupied a rather large amount of Steel Enforcers, all of which had gone off duty for the night and decided to test their skills at drinking games. The rest of the diner was filled with either booths along the walls or tables in the middle of the room whilst a lone piano with a machamp in a tuxedo sat at the back. It was the source of the depressing music. He seemed to be enjoying himself, swaying slowly to the music as he mouthed words yet did not sing.

Other than the machamp, the other members of the staff were grass-types who rushed around the diner to either take orders or quickly clean up any spills to retain what little physique the place could.

Observing the pokemon, it was immediately clear to the tyranitar that was going to have to sit at the bar seeing as the tables and booths were occupied by pockets of either electric-types or flying-types: both of which he knew would either be whispering about or eyeing him the entire night.

At the front of the building stood a serperior greeter who wore a black tie around his fleshy collar. Upon Harry’s entering, he straightened his back proudly and smiled at the tyranitar.

“Welcome to Harley’s Diner,” he welcomed, extending a vine towards a stack of menus. As his eyes set more comfortably on the tyranitar, he hesitated to grab the menu as his smile brightened. “Hey, Harry. How have you been?”

“I need a drink,” Harry stated before walking off towards the bar. He left the serperior simply looking confused. It stuttered after Harry but didn’t pursue him, merely shrugging off the abrupt encounter before leaning on the wall in boredom.

Harry took a seat in one of the backless chairs set up at the left end of the black, marble bar. Two drunken mawile were laughing next to him, pushing against each other while they said nonsensical crap Harry could care less about.

He glanced down the bar to see a grovyle in a bowtie at the end shaking up a metallic container before pouring its murky-grey contents into a funnel-shaped glass edged in shaved ice. Harry sighed, knowing the grovyle wouldn’t come closer to his side for a long time, and Harry didn’t feel like calling out to him. So, he sat there and listened to the music, recalling more memories of the past.

Inside this bar, it seemed to Harry that the song was more sad than peaceful. He listened to it with a heavy heart as he clenched his fist, the blueprints still clutched in his claws. They crumpled underneath his grip.

He allowed the music drift into his mind, hoping that would keep his mind off his latest failure. Harry let it manipulate him with its melodical sadness. It reminded him of a familiar tune.

Harry’s hand drifted down through his cloak to a pocket that rested next to his sword. He felt a lump in his cloak press against the back of his hand. It brought a smile to his face but also emotions he would rather not think about.

“Hey… G-Green Thumb!” one the drunkard mawile – who swayed with each syllable – hollered, outstretching his glass into the bar. “I wan’ another round!”

Harry glanced down the bar at the grovyle. It gave a nod to the patron as he finished off another customer’s drink. He walked calmly and cheerfully down the bar before stopping at the mawile.

“And what drink was that for you, sir?” he asked calmly.

“You’ve been over he-ere all fuckin’ night. What d’you think?”

“Scotch?” he asked as he reached for the bottle.

“Of course, scotch!” he hollered. He then turned towards Harry, breathing straight up the tyranitar’s nose with one of the foulest smelling things he had ever caught a whiff of. “Can you believe this poor bast-ard? No wonder the Sssspitfires turned all of ‘em into slaves, righ?”

Harry ignored the mawile’s comment as he waved towards the grovyle who poured another round into the mawile’s cup. “I’ll take some of that, too, Jessie.”

“Hey, Harry,” the grovyle said as he topped off the mawile’s cup, knowing if he neglected to do so they would hound him. Jessie removed a cup out from below the bar and set it on the counter before pouring the scotch. “Haven’t seen you in here for a while. What brings you around this dumpy, old place?”

Harry smiled grimly. Had this been another server, he’d have ignored the question entirely. But this wasn’t any other server.

Harry loosened his grip around the blueprints before spreading them across the bar. The grovyle finished pouring out the half-cup serving of honey-yellow liquid before he set the bottle down. He placed a few cubes of ice in the cup before he glanced towards the blueprints. “Where’d you get that?” he asked.

“You’ll probably hear about it in a few days,” Harry said, picking up the glass. He tipped it upside-down and downed the drink, grimacing from the burn at the back of his throat.

“So, what’s the problem?” the grovyle asked.

Harry began to sneer. “Someone we thought we could trust – someone we thought was helping us – told us that this document was going to help. Turns out he lied.”

Jessie forced air through his teeth as he shook his head. “That’s rough,” he said.

“And the worst part is I should have seen it coming,” Harry went on, staring blankly. “I should have known he was using us from the start.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jessie asked.

Harry laughed. “Not pulling any punches, are you?” He sighed, thinking about the question. “I guess… I just wanted to get away.”

Jessie raised the bottle in an offering. Harry nodded as Jessie poured another drink.

“You can relate,” Harry said.

The grovyle tipped the bottle back up before glancing around the pub. “I don’t think…” Jessie started nervously.

“It’s just us and these guys,” Harry said, pointing towards the two mawile who were still giggling stupidly amongst themselves. “And they’re too drunk to remember anything about tonight, let alone ask for the manager.”

Jessie looked away in a bothered stare. His hand was visibly tight on the bottle as his brow-line tensed.

“You know how it is for Grass and Bug pokemon,” he whispered to Harry. “Everyone does. We’re treated like dirt. I mean, look behind you,” he said giving a quick nod towards a table behind the tyranitar.

Harry watched as a steenee – one that looked younger than anyone else at the bar with a height of a little under two feet – held up a purple bottle to an electabuzz who sat at a table across the bar. He was currently talking contentedly with a yellow oricorio, but immediately looked irritated with the steenee. He scowled down at her and snapped vocally, ripping the bottle from her grasp as she winced and shuddered. The oricorio sitting next to the electabuzz hollered an order at the girl before shoving a glass into her hand.

Jessie wore a distasteful scowl as he whipped another glass out from underneath the bar. “And it’s not like we can do anything to stop it,” he growled. “One wrong move, and they send you away for ‘correction.’”

“And let’s say you can get away,” Harry said. “Would you?”

Jessie smirked dreamily as he whipped down a glass with a rag he’d procured from the counter. “If only,” he said as if that were his answer.

“I’m being serious,” Harry assured.

“So am I.” Jessie grimly shook his head before setting the glass below the counter and reaching for a new one. “Obviously, I’d run if I thought it would work, but here in the real world where would that get me? They’d report me as missing and send pokemon looking – the Iron Guard, maybe. _You_ might be able to run from the cops, but it’s because when you walk by someone, they don’t question whether you’re a free pokemon or a slave who’s on the run. They might shoot you a look because of typism and stereotypes, but if a Grass-type or Bug-type were to walk alone, we’d be arrested on sight. And because of our types, we can’t fight back against… maybe… a third of the pokemon that would be sent looking. We just don’t have the type-advantage that everyone else has.

“Nope. Even if we wanted to run, we’d get caught too quickly. And when we’re returned to our owners we’re beaten if we’re lucky, sold back to plantations or sent away if we aren’t.”

“You talk about it like this is better than working on the fields,” Harry said. As he took a swig of his drink, he looked back at Jessie to find he was scowling at the tyranitar.

“It is,” Jessie said seriously.

Harry scoffed. “Either way you’re a slave to Spitfires and Ice Pops. What’s the difference?”

“The difference is we’re dying out there in the fields,” Jessie said with a look of anger. “We’re dehydrated and forced to work all-hours of the day. At least here, we get to work indoors.”

“Not everyone does,” he said with a shake of his head. “You’re ignoring the facts.”

“Easy for you to say, seeing as you’ve never had to take shit from other pokemon.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry felt that same pit from before grow in his chest. Anger came to the forefront of his mind.

“You have no clue what it’s like to be a slave,” Jessie stated, leaning in towards Harry. “It takes so much to stay alive. It takes sacrifice to see someone dying because of abuse – someone who could have easily been you – and do nothing because you know intervening would cause your own death.”

“That’s not sacrifice, that’s cowardice!” Harry snapped. “You’re only acting with your own life in mind! What’s the difference between you and your Slave Masters?”

Jessie sniggered. “Don’t talk about sacrifice when you haven’t given up anything in your life.”

Harry leapt to his feet, his anger bubbling over as he crushed the glass in the palm of his right hand. A murderous scene played across the snarl present.

Yet he merely watched Jessie. The grovyle’s eyes fidgeted as if expecting to be slapped at any moment. But Harry did no such thing.

Pretty soon, Harry realized the whole bar had their eyes set on him. They watched with baited breaths at what may happen next.

“You don’t know what happened to me,” he hissed at Jessie. “You don’t know what sacrifices were made so I could be alive!”

Harry huffed before he fell back into his chair. He mentally thought about reaching for the glass before he realized its shards were inside of his hand, which he promptly opened, allowing the shiny debris and dust to spill onto the counter. He threw up his hands in frustration.

The people of the bar went back to their meaningless tasks and conversation as Jessie reached for another glass, placing it in front of Harry. He shoveled a little more ice into the cup before pouring another round of scotch.

“Thanks,” Harry said softly, scowling towards the glass.

Jessie nodded pensively, saying, “On the house.”

“Yo, Green Thumb!” a pokemon bellowed from down the bar. “You gonna flap your gums all day or are we gonna get some drinks down here?!”

“Yeah!” other pokemon cheered.

Jessie took one deep breath before he nodded to walk towards the hollering pokemon, leaving Harry to sit with his thoughts.

~ ~ ~

The night passed with an almost taunting slowness about it. Harry didn’t drink much more – a shot or two to numb his emotions: just enough to make them more bearable, but not enough to make him drunk (he could hold his liquor with the best of them).

Thankfully, by this point in time, the piano player began playing bouncier songs; maybe he had a lot of complaints about the depressing ones filling the bar with emotion, something generally forgotten in a place like this. Pokemon had moved some of the tables away from the bar’s center to form a dance floor where they began swing dancing with pokemon of their types. There was also the fact that the drunkard sitting next to Harry had passed out about a half-hour ago, leaving it mostly peaceful where he was sitting.

The only thing keeping the mood low was Jessie, though not by choice. He didn’t speak much to Harry during the remainder of his stay, only walking past him to make sure Harry or other patrons didn’t want another drink.

Harry held the glass to his face with his free hand, spinning his wrist and watching as the remaining scotch and ice rhythmically spun around in the bottom of the cup. It kept his mind off the blueprints (which he had placed into his bag) along with his darker thoughts.

Yet it hadn’t stop him from recalling how he’d reacted hours ago in the streets. He stopped spinning the glass, examining his knuckles that had been in Randal’s chest hours ago. _Probably wasn’t the best move on my part…_ he thought, feeling slightly guilty over the attack: slightly.

He reached towards the sleeping mawile – or more specifically, the satchel which rested on its hip to open it carefully. He began rummaging around for some spare change but stopped when he found a long, green object that looked like a hard leaf invading the corner of his sight. Following the object, he discovered it belonged to the steenee from before who was currently standing behind his chair, her gaze fixated on something at Harry’s side.

Harry immediately turned towards his opposite side to his own bag whose flap was lightly opened by the steenee from before. She was currently concentrating with her tongue out whilst her grubby left-hand rummaged inside Harry’s bag, searching for something, as her right held the hilt of Harry’s dagger towards the floor.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry snapped as he forcefully grabbed her right arm. She gave a yelp as she jumped, looking towards Harry with panicked eyes.

Harry looked towards her expecting an answer. “Well?”

“I…” she stuttered as her eyes grew wider with each passing second. Her eyes darted backwards towards the table where the electabuzz and oricorio were located as if she were looking for help. Then, it clicked.

“Oh,” Harry said with a calmness to his voice as he glanced backwards at the two pokemon. “Those are your slavers, right?”

“N-no!” the steenee squealed as true horror overtook every feature on her face.

Harry stood up, still grabbing the girl tightly, and smiled cruelly down at her. “They put you up to this, didn’t they?”

“I-it was me!” the steenee pleaded. “They didn’t have anything to do with it!”

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

Harry picked up the steenee by her arm, carrying her like a bag of potatoes. She began to retaliate against him, kicking against his side and banging his arm with her free one, yet she didn’t cry out for help. The only noises she made were quiet pleas for him to stop. Nevertheless, Harry approached the chatty pokemon with a ferocity about him.

“Excuse me,” Harry forcefully said over the electabuzz and oricorio’s conversation. The two pokemon looked towards Harry, scowling at him over the interruption.

“Do you mind?” the electabuzz asked.

“George,” the oricorio said, panicked as her eyes set on the steenee.

The electabuzz’s face went pale as he realized that was _his_ steenee in Harry’s grip; not only that, but she was wielding a knife.

The steenee’s body began to shudder uncontrollably. Taking a glimpse down at her, Harry noticed she was staring at the oricorio with dilated pupils and a quivering leaf.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Harry said with a calm in his voice, yet he did not wear a smile. “But I think that sending your slave to steal from me is crossing some kind of a line, and it’s a gesture I don’t appreciate.”

The electabuzz’s expression changed in an instant from shock to confusion. “W-what?” he asked.

“You think this was our plan?” the oricorio protested with a sort of irritated shake of her pom-poms. “The nerve of you quarry folk!”

“Then what do you suggest?” Harry asked as he scowled towards the shivering steenee. “She… did it herself?”

It was at this point that Harry became confused. Maybe it took stating the possibility aloud that made his scales stand up. His eyes drifted towards the steenee’s pale expression, and then upwards towards the knife it was brandishing. Why steal the knife in the first place? Surely these pokemon – slavers – had to be capable of getting their own, more valuable knife. Why take his?

“Sir,” the electabuzz began. “We’re terribly sorry our help has disturbed you in this way, but we had nothing to do with her actions.”

Yet Harry didn’t listen to them. He was still fixated on the steenee. His eyes drifted down towards her arms. He didn’t realize it before, but they were bruised and covered in dirt. And her pale expression didn’t drift from the two pokemon: pokemon she previously insisted weren’t involved.

Harry then looked towards the oricorio who eyed him worriedly. Her foot was pressed behind her as if ready to bolt if need-be. For some reason it brought some calm to Harry’s mind.

“You’re saying she acted on her own?” Harry asked.

“We had nothing to do with that weapon!” the electabuzz spat, electricity arching from his antennae irritatingly.

Harry nodded slowly. “Alright. So, where do you think this should go, then? If your slave acted on her own – rummaging through my bag and taking my knife of her own free will – then there should be some sort of punishment. Am I right?”

“Of course,” the oricorio said. She shot a menacing glare towards the steenee who struggled against gravity to curl into a ball. “There will be.”

Harry smiled a thoughtful smirk. “And as the slave owners who let something like this occur, shouldn’t there be some sort of due payment on your ends?”

“Say what?” the oricorio asked, immediately swapping her scowl for an open-beaked frown.

“Well, as slave owners, it’s your responsibility to keep your slaves in line, is it not?”

“Not legally,” the electabuzz said.

Harry glared at the electabuzz’s comment. He expected some sort of intimidation to be happening – a yelp or a stagger – but his look didn’t seem to faze the electabuzz in the slightest. Instead, he stood firmly in the ground, raising his head to the tyranitar. Harry noticed some of the bar’s eyes had turned towards the group expectantly. They salivated at the mouths for the tension that brewed between the pokemon.

“What type of payment?” the electabuzz asked, articulating each syllable.

“Well…” Harry started. His calmness remained unfazed whilst he spoke. “I was thinking, if you can’t handle a slave, then maybe you shouldn’t have one at all.”

“Ooh!” some jeers called out from random pokemon listening in.

The electabuzz continued its unending scowl, not turning from Harry. “What does that mean?” he spat.

“This slave needs a proper master,” Harry continued. “And that would be me.”

“You must think we’re insane,” the oricorio said. “But if you would set _it_ down, we could all put this behind us and move on.”

“I don’t think you have much of a choice,” Harry said, pulling back a chair from the table before sitting comfortably. He slowly lowered the steenee to the floor, loosening his grip just enough to make her more comfortable but not so much as to allow her to run.

Harry leaned across the table towards the two electric pokemon, his face beaming in calm confidence. “Think about this,” he whispered. “I’m not the only one who would have a beef with you. If she _was_ digging around in my bag. Who’s to say she wasn’t busy robbing other pokemon?”

The emotion in the electabuzz changed as fast as a lit fuse. Instead of his firm demeanor, his eyes darted around to the other patrons who continued to watch their conversation with expectancy in their smirks.

“I’d agree to my demands,” Harry said, reaching for the cup of liquor in front of the electabuzz. He grasped it comfortably and took a swig of the burning liquid before puffing a relaxed sigh. “If not… Well, all it takes is a whisper to create a mob.”

The electabuzz shot a vicious glance around the table towards the steenee. With a forceful, “bang” on the table, Harry slammed the surface with his free hand demanding the electabuzz’s attention. “The girl is the least of your worries!” he snarled, tapping his claws on the wood. Harry took a deep breath, regaining his composure before asking with false sweetness, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“This is blackmail!” the electabuzz snapped in a hushed tone. His horns began to arch ferociously with electricity as he spoke. “You want compensation, do you?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Harry said, recognizing the imminent attack. Harry reached into his cloak and pulled the hilt of his rapier above the table just enough to create visibility.

The electabuzz’s electrical arcs ceased as his breath caught inside of his throat. The oricorio quickly tapped the electabuzz’s shoulder with her pom-poms.

“It’s fine!” she assured with a twitch in her beak. “We can get another one easily enough. You know that!” The oricorio watched the rest of the bar with worry. “She isn’t worth this!”

Harry stood from the table, striding towards the two with the steenee in tow. She didn’t resist the tyranitar, allowing him to lead her easy enough.

Harry leaned in towards the electabuzz, the gap between them shrinking to a breath’s distance. “So? Is she worth being mauled by this whole bar?”

The electabuzz fixated his gaze on the opposite end of the floor and away from Harry. His lip twitched as he searched his brain for a way out. But Harry knew there was none.

The peacekeepers could care less about a slave transferring owners. Hell, they might side against the electabuzz. Either way, reporting this would be a waste of time. And if the government believed the slave was in the hands of _someone_ , they wouldn’t send the Steel Enforcers looking.

The electabuzz shook his head quickly in response.

“So?” Harry questioned, demanding verbal confirmation.

“Take it,” he whispered, his voice soaked in detest of either Harry or the whole ordeal: probably both.

Harry outreached a hand for a firm shake but merely received dagger-filled glares from the electabuzz. So instead, Harry stood up and made his way to the exit.

~ ~ ~

As the two exited the diner, Harry took a refreshing breath of the cold, night air. He could hear the bar return to their normal conversations, though they sounded vaguely annoyed that there had not been any brawls.

“What are you gonna do?” the steenee asked worriedly, glaring up at the tyranitar through the tops of her eyes.

Harry smiled towards the sky before shaking his head. “Nothing,” he said to the girl who glanced backwards into the bar with worry. “They won’t bother you anymore, so you can drop my knife.”

“W-why would I do that?” the steenee said, panic still in her voice as she glared at the beast.

Harry let go of the steenee and raised his hands defensively, taking a step away. “I’m not like your slavers, and I don’t want to hurt you. So, can you please let go of the knife?”

The steenee continued to scowl suspiciously towards him before her eyes drifted at her now-released arm. She allowed a shuddering breath to escape before the rusty blade clattered to the floor. Harry was quick about taking the blade’s hilt and setting it into his bag.

“You shouldn’t be stealing,” Harry said. “You know that, right?”

“Like I had a choice…” the steenee grumbled. “They would have killed me sooner or later for screwing up something stupid.”

“Other pokemon kill grass-types for stealing from them. You’re lucky that: A. It was me who caught you, and B. I could spin all of that in a way that would split the blame with your slavers.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you’re a freak,” the steenee said.

“A… freak?” Harry couldn’t help but snicker at the comment. It felt like a pretty out-of-the-blue thing to say. “What, are my horns too short for you?”

“You’re the first one who’s ever caught me,” she said. “No one catches me.”

“You’ve done this before?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “And you got away with it?”

It was an obvious fact to Harry that to steal something takes either blending in or extreme stealth. He found it hard to believe a Grass-type was unnoticeable enough to get away with something like that.

“Duh,” the steenee said, showing her left hand to the tyranitar. His head tilted even further as his gaze set on the glitteriest golden bracelet Harry had ever set his dirt-poor eyes upon.

“Huh,” he said in shock.

“The lady with the big teeth,” she said as if responding to Harry’s surprise, pointing back into the bar. “She was the one making kissy faces at your back while we left.”

Harry found it hard to take his eyes from the bracelet. It was impressive enough to be able to take something like that in passing, but as a Green-Thumb? She had to have stood out like a... well, like a Green-Thumb.

“Uncle Dwight use to say I wouldn’t amount to being anything more than a toothpick, but I don’t think that’s right.”

Harry sighed before shaking his head. “Fine. You’re an alright thief,” he admitted. “But at the very least, you shouldn’t be stealing from others. Places on the other hand…”

“I’m better than, ‘alright’,” she said in a mocking tone before puffing out her chest. Her head-leaf perked up before she said with a gleam to her voice, “Momma says I’m the greatest!”

“Right…” Harry said dismissively. “Anyways, you’re free now. They shouldn’t come after you seeing as they think I’m your new slaver, so you should be fine on your own.”

The steenee nodded at Harry, yet it didn’t take very long for her to start to shake with fear.

“W-what?” she began with panic.

“This is where we part, kid,” Harry said with a small wave. “Good luck, though you probably won’t need it with that ‘sneaky sneaky’ thing you got going for you.”

“W-wait!” the steenee demanded.

“Be careful out there, alright?”

Harry began walking down the dirt road with a false calm on his face. He wanted to scowl, but he couldn’t place why. He should feel good about this. _She has her freedom because of me,_ he thought. _Sure, it’s hard for a kid to survive out here on their own, but it isn’t impossible. Plus, she’s good at stealing things. She’ll make it._

Yet these thoughts seemed to Harry more like excuses to leave her. But what more could he do?

“Hang on!” the steenee called out as she ran towards Harry. “Take me with you!”

“You’ll be fine if you stay careful,” Harry explained. He stopped in his tracks when he felt the soft, almost leafy skin of the steenee grab his ankle

“But I don’t know where to go!”

Harry rolled his eyes at the little girl. She wasn’t making this easy, was she? “Honestly, that’s not my problem,” he said before he lightly shook the steenee from his leg.

“You kicked their butts, and that wasn’t your problem.”

“Let’s just say I have issues with slavers.”

“Where am I supposed to go?” she hollered up to him once more while the corners of her eyes filled with tears.

“Again,” Harry said. “Not my problem.”

The steenee stopped in her tracks, watching the tyranitar as he began walking ahead with certainty: a seeming conviction to be unhelpful. She couldn’t understand. Was her slave master the only reason he intervened?

“You’re… you’re just afraid like everyone else!”

Harry stopped in his tracks at that comment. The steenee donned a look of shock. _That… worked?_ she thought. “You…” she began, frantically trying to come up with something else to say. “You’re just afraid!”

“Afraid of what?” Harry asked, looking at the steenee through the corner of his eye.

“A-afraid of… being arrested!” she shouted. “And… of me!”

Harry sighed before continuing to walk away. “Don’t follow me,” he told the girl.

“Don’t leave me behind!” the girl screamed out in a final fit of desperation.

Harry’s breath wavered as his feet planted themselves. As he stood there in the silence of the night, his eyes tightly shut together as his chest felt like all of tonight’s emotion was going to pop through his ribs. The steenee’s words rang through his head with so much ferocity – so much familiarity.

“I’m the leader of a group of outlaws,” Harry said. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I… don’t care,” the steenee replied.

Harry stared at her through the corner of his eye for a good long while, observing her shivering face, yet… Her eyes were hopeful. But why? Did she honestly think he could take her in?

“I can’t help you, kid,” he said once more, looking away into the blackness ahead of him before walking off.

As he left the girl there, shivering in worry and fear, he felt his heart ache. She wondered what to do. Had she truly been abandoned? Was this some kind of twisted joke? Surely, he didn’t save her from those monsters just to leave her to die.

Yet Harry didn’t look back. The steenee’s words rang in his head like bells, but he couldn’t do anything about it. An outlaw couldn’t help the girl, and she couldn’t help him. She’d just be dead weight: a drain on food and resources that were already so far out of their reach.

So, he kept walking, refusing to sneak even a peak back at the girl, afraid if he did his emotions would overcome him. He tried ignoring the phrase that continued to bombard his mind: “Don’t leave me behind”. He tried desperately to ignore the internal fear it brought up inside of him.

“Just…” Harry said in a whisper. “Just take care of yourself, kid…”


	3. All According to Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being betrayed by Kenji "Drags" Umbri of The Dusk, the Thieves' Guild determine how to proceed with the inevitable encounter with the hardened threat in an attempt to preserve their lives.

# Chapter III

# All According to Plan

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**THE WALK** back was simple enough – maybe took him an hour and a half at the most to find the stony archway at the city’s borders. Splatters of red and blue berries stained the archway while pink ribbons swayed in the wind. As the tyranitar felt the cobblestone pathway and shadows cast over him fade with the surrounding buildings, he found himself in an orange, craggy field stretching towards the all-encompassing wall. He was back in the Rock District. There was no life out here: just fields of pebbles and deep pits scattered randomly across the plains.

Harry’s eyes set on an abandoned building about half a mile from his position. He invested all focus into the building, trying to evade images of the steenee girl. Don’t think about how scared she must have been: how betrayed she must have felt by the world itself for leaving her behind… No, there were other things to worry about.

As he approached the building, he glanced at archways that stood on the edges of the pits: more specifically, he observed the numbers etched into the top. Large gusts of wind would occasionally push against Harry’s body, but its hindrance was a minor one at best.

_30… 40… 50._ Harry swung a sharp right, walking down the worn path which connected the pits. He began to count the archways until he reached one labelled “56” before passing underneath onto a wooden ramp that creaked with every step.

He took his time during his decline, passing multiple levels of catwalks etched into the interior walls like spiral shelves until a set of words carved into the wall read, “B10”. He stepped off the ramp and onto the spiral shelf: a pathway wrapping across the wall connecting cozy burrow-like homes dug into the pit’s wall. Looking over the catwalk’s edge, one could see a seemingly endless void untouched by the moon’s soft beams, though Harry knew there was a bottom.

At the pit’s end, catacombs built by hand snaked through the layers of clay serving as either a network of underground alleyways between the different pits or a spaghetti-bowl of mining tunnels stripped of their valuables. It was an underground maze of junctions and dead ends: easy for anyone to lose themselves if careless.

Harry trudged across the catwalk, passing walls literally covered in crystals meticulously placed by the pit’s previous inhabitants. In fact, these crystals soaked the walls in clusters of rainbow hues. Though within these rainbows came blotches of reflective blacks.

To some pokemon, these blacks tainted pure beauty, as if the only purpose to the rainbow wall was for art. It annoyed the tyranitar. Sure, should the moon hit the cave’s walls just right, they made for a beautiful spectacle, but there was purpose behind every stone: a story that wanted to be told.

Walking the length of the catwalk, Harry took care to avoid any red stains in the wood out of courtesy to whoever it once belonged to. He passed by a couple of burrows in the wall before finding the familiar “welcome” sign splayed out across the floor. A heavy sack tied closed by a lace of frayed rope rested next to the burrow’s entrance. Harry took hold of the sack and undid the lace, revealing the sack was filled with the same colorful crystals as the wall.

“Are you drunk?” a calmed, gruff voice questioned from behind.

“No,” Harry stated, not bothering a glance towards the granbull who made a darkened corner of the catwalk her roost. He removed a handful of crystals while Joy walked out from the shadows. “So, how long were you waiting for me?

“Does it matter?” Joy asked.

Harry gave a light smile towards the gemstones. “Not really,” he said. The tyranitar began pacing the wall, observing the array of colors for an empty spot.

“We need to talk,” Joy stated.

Harry hummed in fake contemplation before saying, “Do I play the guy who assaulted your boyfriend or the leader of our group of bandits?”

Joy huffed at the tyranitar. “Draggs,” Joy insisted. “I’m talking about Draggs.”

“What about him?” Harry began. Honestly, he was hardly paying attention. He was more interested in the vacant spot he located in the wall, allowing him to proceed with his job.

The tyranitar closed his eyes, envisioning the scaly palm of his hand. He imagined the darkness around him encircling him, trapping him in a black void. The void began to swirl around him, focusing itself into a compact sphere of darkened energy in the palm of his hand. He felt the veins in his arm begin to drain of blood before popping with pressure just under the scales. An all-consuming cold regulated to a pulsating mass no bigger than his palm enveloped the handful of crystals. Harry opened his eyes to see the void in his imagination took a physical shape, bathing the colorful crystals in its black energy. After mere seconds of soaking these crystals in darkness, Harry allowed his hand to relax and the energy to disperse into the air, robbing the crystals of their rainbow hues and leaving the shards as black as the above night sky.

“Harry,” Joy urged.

“What do you want me to say?” Harry asked, placing the crystals into the wall. “You’ve been thinking about how to deal with him, right?”

“Yes,” Joy answered. “But-”

“Then talk. Tell me what you’ve come up with.”

As the tyranitar reached to place another crystal, he felt a furry, yet crushing grip hold his arm in place. Joy scowled up at him, insisting in a calmed yet aggressive tone, “The dead can wait.

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself and his emotions. He would much rather continue his work than converse about what may or may not happen, but the options as they stood were strategize with Joy or be hurled over the side for inciting the wrath of a granbull.

“Alright,” Harry said defeatedly, setting the remaining, darkened crystals into the pouch. He set the sack onto the floor before facing Joy’s scowl. “You now have my undivided attention.”

“Good,” Joy stated, finally satisfied with the tyranitar. “Now, talk to me; what do you have?”

Harry couldn’t help but smirk at the granbull. “Nothing more than you.”

“Really?” Joy asked, unsure of whether Harry was being truthful or just trying to weasel his way out of strategizing. “Do you expect me to believe you haven’t thought up one single thing on your way back?”

Harry felt his stomach tense as he recalled the steenee girl’s words. “I had… other things on my mind.”

Joy looked unsatisfied with the answer yet shrugged it away easily enough. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll start, then:

“I don’t think we have a choice but to fight Draggs.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile, crossing his arms at the granbull. “You’ve been spending too much time with your boyfriend.”

“Randal has nothing to do with it,” Joy assured. “All that matters are the facts, and the fact is that Draggs betrayed us. He has to know we’d find out about his betrayal eventually, and we’d fight him when we did.”

“You’re right,” Harry said with a few nods. “He’ll be planning for a backlash, so he’ll want to attack preemptively.”

“That leaves us with two options,” Joy said. “We talk our way out of this or we kill Draggs tonight in the vain hope that it sends a big enough message to the Dusk that we’re not to be trifled with.”

“You still haven’t said why running won’t help us,” Harry reminded.

Joy gave a huff at the tyranitar, letting him know he was getting ahead of her. Harry apologetically raised an open hand and allowed her to continue.

“Think about it this way: The Dusk has the entirety of the Dark District under their nails. And to have as many black market deals as they do without drawing the attention of Peacekeeper-”

“You’re saying they have too many resources to run forever,” Harry summed.

Joy simply nodded. “And if those facts weren’t bad enough, they’re marking more and more of the Rock District as Dusk territory. It’s only a matter of time before they find our hideout. Bottom line is we need their respect.”

They both looked at each other as if waiting for a way out, but they merely stared in silence. They were both smart enough to know any reassurance made was a lie. The truth was that they had nothing to go on.

A small smile escaped the corner of Joy’s rough face. She made her way to the catwalk’s railing, leaning over its wooden supports and staring into the darkness below.. Harry walked to her side, smirking confusedly at her expression.

“What?” the tyranitar asked. “Why the smile?”

“I just find it entertaining,” Joy admitted. “I mean, the one night Randal takes me out to relax and stop worrying so much and look at what happens. We’re stuck in an impossible situation.”

Harry sighed into the cold air. “This one’s not on you,” he said. “It’s on me..”

“Really?” Joy asked as her smile faded into a confused scowl.

“You warned us about Draggs from the start, and I didn’t listen. You warned us that trusting the Dusk was a bad idea. But…” As frustration overtook Harry’s face, he smeared his forehead as if trying to wipe his expressions away. “We all just wanted to get out so badly, you know? We wanted… We wanted… everything to get better than this cold pit in the ground. And I-”

“Stop,” Joy urged.

Harry had to blink twice to realize Joy had cut him off. “Joy, I’m not sure if you realize what I’m trying to do here, but-” The tyranitar fell silent as the granbull shot him an insistent scowl.

“Don’t,” Joy insisted – not in a cold way but more like an assuring friend. She sighed, tugging at the worn, red bandanna around her neck as she searched for the right words to say. “While it’s true that I warned everyone about trusting Draggs, it isn’t fair for you to take all the blame. I… wanted to leave this place as much as the rest of you. And when you put the decision up to a vote, I was…” A huff escaped the granbull’s throat before she continued. “I was relieved with the idea that we might actually make some head-way.

“What I’m trying to say is that this is not just your fault. It’s on all of us, so don’t apologize. Understand?”

When Joy finished speaking, she directed her gaze back into the pit. Harry, however, continued to stare at the granbull before his lip curled into a half-smile he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. “Joy-” he began.

“And don’t thank me, either,” Joy interjected. “I’m just saying what needed to be said.”

A small chuckle escaped Harry’s mouth before he leaned over the railing. “I was just going to say that if you wanted to be the leader again, I wouldn’t object.”

Joy rolled her eyes once more, allowing that to be her only response. After that, silence once again overtook the chasm.

As Harry leaned over the rail, he listened to the world around him. The wind whistled above the two, whipping through a couple of banners, spreading the cold around the district. The sounds above were contrasted by the silent corridors below them. Somehow, it was nice. It gave Harry a chance to simply breathe: relax.

He couldn’t remember the last time he could. There was always something he had to do: something he had to take care of. As the leader of thieves or as the only resident of a lifeless district. But for this single moment, he didn’t need to think about what happened next. All he needed to do was lean over the railing with a friend.

As the tyranitar gave himself to the silence, Joy found herself restless with what could go wrong. Would they die tonight? Would all of their work be for nothing? Was it her fault? 

Glancing at Harry, she felt a longing in her heart for the calm that radiated from each breath.. Was he actually able to ignore their present problems? How could he relax knowing his friends were in danger? How when Draggs tricked them into this trap for seemingly no reason whatsoever? 

What was he after, anyhow? The Center was a districtless mess. It evolved from a place of meeting between the different districts into a hub for business and upward expansion. So why would the Dusk need to know the layouts of these buildings?

“We’re missing something,” Joy stated, pulling Harry back into the moment. The tyranitar resisted the urge to sigh as he listened to the granbull. “Why would a gang need plans for the center?”

“They’re probably looking for something,” Harry said. He noticed Joy eyeing him suspiciously to which Harry simply smirked. “I’m just speculating.

“What I don’t understand is why Draggs didn’t just tell us what we were taking in the first place.”

“If we’re speculating,” Joy began. “Then maybe the reason Draggs didn’t tell us was because he was afraid we’d ask too many questions. Or maybe he found out we’d robbed The Dusk before and didn’t trust us.”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugged. “This job might just be his way of getting one, final use out of us before we’re murdered. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Joy sighed through clenched teeth. “I wish we had more to work with. We’re just speculating at this point.”

Harry shrugged. “They’re more like logical conclusions based on previous encounters with the guy.”

“Speculation,” Joy corrected. “In any case, we might as well stick with what we have.”

“Which is?” Harry asked.

The granbull straightened her back and removed a piece of paper from the bag at her side. She unraveled it across the floor to reveal what appeared to be a messy, self-drawn schematic of a three-storied building drawn in blue paint.

Joy tapped a claw to the paper, saying, “We know where we’re meeting Draggs, so I had Pat draw up a rough schematic of the place.”

“She remembered what it looked like?” Harry asked, tracing a finger over the blue outline of the building.

“Randal helped,” Joy added. “But regardless, since we know Draggs is a coward, we should prepare for the worst-case scenario and formulate some form of a battle-plan.”

“Alright,” Harry said, nodding towards the granbull. “Am I correct in assuming you have some ideas?”

Joy looked up from the map into Harry’s eyes in confirmation. The tyranitar gave a simple nod to Joy before the two began forming a plot.

~ ~ ~

They used every possible second going over the sloppy prints mapped out by a noivern’s hearing and a meowstic’s psychic mind: regrettably not as accurate as Harry hoped, but it would have to do. In the end, Harry and Joy formulated the very basics of what could be considered a plan. They attempted to take everything into account, going off any information they could recall from previous meetings. At the end of the day, neither of them could say they were happy with their progress, yet they were out of time.

They worked quickly to prepare, packing any item that could benefit them in their possible fight. After that, they rallied the troops.

Harry found Pat fiddling nervously with her tails on a hay-stuffed mattress, having tried to rest for nearly an hour before giving up. It seemed impossible for her to get even a wink of sleep, something Harry could understand. Given current events, he was surprised the meowstic was keeping a handle on her emotions. Other than the light, occasional fidget she looked as calm as a rock.

Randal, however, was found drooling on his bedroll. Joy had to admit, it was very unsightly. She had to drag the noivern by the tail to get him out of bed, but not at the cost of hearing the tired phrase, “You never wake a sleeping dragon!” She merely shot the yawning dragon a warning glance before they all made their way out of the pit.

Regardless of the circumstances, the group made reasonable time; they got up, prepared their items, and scaled the pit’s ramp in about a half-an-hour. They began their trek through the craggy plains heading north towards the tall, distant, blank slate of wall, though their walk would end long before they reached their small world’s all-encompassing barrier.

As they walked, Harry explained the “plan” to the rest of the group. Upon hearing the lack of actual directions given to them, Pat found it hard to convey anything without giving away her actual emotions. She tried to keep a straight face for the sake of the group, but she was scared and irritated.

This plan felt lazy. When they normally took a job, they would learn the basic layout of the building, how many pokemon they were dealing with, what their goal was, where it was, etcetera, etcetera: Harry and Joy would weed out every possibility. But this? This felt lazy – sloppy – unorganized. Were they that pathetic this time around or did they just not have enough time?

No, it was definitely time. Damn Harry for drinking. She knew it was only a matter of time before his “hobby” interfered with a mission, but she never spoke up before. He owned so much emotional baggage that she never wanted to take away his escape. But this time? He went too far.

 _Chill out, Pat,_ the meowstic told herself, shooting daggers into the floor as Harry explained the rest of their plan. _Harry’s plan has never let you down before… Well, he’s never gotten you killed before. There’s no reason to start worrying, now. Even if he didn’t visit the bar, we never had enough time to sort through everything. We’ll pull through like we always do._

As Harry finished, Joy couldn’t help but scowl. She thought this plan was sloppy, too. And she couldn’t hold her emotions as well as her meowstic friend.

The granbull walked next to Randal, holding his unruly talons in her fuzzy hand, trying desperately not to squeeze. Yet her enveloping thoughts strangled her mind, taking all focus away. She couldn’t help but squeeze as if grasping for some sort of comfort. So many things were up in the air. How could she not worry?

 _“It’s gonna be fine,”_ the noivern whispered to the granbull. He modulated the frequency of his voice so that Harry wouldn’t be able to hear – one of the perks to having a noivern for a boyfriend.

Joy glanced ahead at Pat to see if she picked up on Randal’s reassurance, but the meowstic was so focused on keeping her cool that hearing something at normal decibels seemed improbable.

Joy sighed in response to Randal’s assurance, letting him know that she did not share his confidence. Was all of this truly going to be fine? If they had more time to come up with a strategy, maybe, but Harry sabotaged any extra time with his drinking. Why was it that whenever Harry fell on troubled times he would drink before figuring things out?

_“Nothing’s gonna happen to us, alright?”_ Randal assured, smiling down at Joy. _“You don’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt us.”_

Some might have considered it a sloppy guarantee. Joy knew that his promise wouldn’t amount to much when they got into the fight. Any thought of defense would be thrown to the sky, replaced with an insatiable bloodlust. But… she felt her face soften into a small smile.

Maybe it was that stupid grin that stretched across the noivern’s face that made her spirits lift. Or maybe it was the sheer audacity in the way the noivern acted as though the world would submit to him just because he _was_ Randal. Regardless, she smiled at the starless sky, allowing herself to feel happy knowing her boyfriend was there to scare her fears away. He grabbed Joy by the shoulder and pulled her into a hug as they all walked into the darkened horizon.

~ ~ ~

It didn’t take too long before Harry noticed the black spots that randomly littered the surrounding earth as though an ashless fire scorched the ground itself. Blackened ribbons swayed through the chilled breeze, tied to the surrounding archways. Each move they made deeper into the district seemed to be another step into an aura of danger.

Despite his attempt at appearing calm, a scowl planted itself on Harry’s face. He resisted the urge in his hand that demanded to hover close to his cloak, ready to pull away the cloth to reveal his damaged rapier. They could be watching.

Randal’s energy faded with each black ribbon they passed. Joy would squeeze his hand in reassurance, but she was worried too: they all were. Pat was the only one who managed to puff out her chest confidently, accurately masking the panic behind her eyes. It was something Harry didn’t envy; that skill to instantly mask her emotions was something that came with pain he could hardly imagine.

With a few final steps the group found themselves in front of a windowless, cobblestone building whose right corner had collapsed into a heap of dust and rubble. Massive words etched into the wall that read, “Food Bank” sat above a cracked archway, serving as an entrance into the three-storied building.

Two mightyena stood in front of the entrance, blocking the way inside. They both looked as though a dust devil recently blew through the area, soiling their unruly fur in enough dirt to tint them orange. Black rings etched themselves around their left ankles as though they purposefully stained their fur in the same manner as the black spots in the ground.

A low rumble in the mightyenas’ maws reverberated through the air towards the group, signaling for them to stop.

“You know the rules,” the right mightyena barked. “Leave your weapons and bags on the floor.”

“We want to see Draggs,” Harry said with a calm but firm scowl, ignoring the mightyena’s request. “Now.”

“The bags,” the mightyena demanded, curling its upper lips to flash shining teeth at the group.

Pat calmly glanced towards Harry as if pleading for a way out. This would end their plan before it even began.

“We have the package in our bag,” Harry stated flatly. “Leaving it here does nothing for your boss.”

The left mightyena looked towards the right as if conveying an unsaid message when a sharp whistle rang out from inside the building. The mightyenas’ ears perked up as if to listen before an irritated, yet diplomatic voice called from within the building.

“For the sake of Arceus, just let them in already! We don’t have all night to debate with clients!”

The two mightyenas quickly looked at each other once more as if to confirm they both heard their leader’s words before stepping away from the door, relaxing their bodies as an all-clear for the group to enter.

Harry gave a smug smile, nodding his head in thanks before they moved past. Randal aggressively mouthed the words “thank you” to the mightyena before rolling his eyes and following the group into the building.

The thieves found themselves in a massive room that stretched upwards the whole three stories. Toppled, rusted shelves whose contents had long since been raided were pushed to the side creating a messy, rubble-filled pathway towards the back of the store. Pat couldn’t help but gag at unseen hives of mold and decaying food hidden under the shelves, pouring a stench foul enough to kill throughout the building.

Harry glanced upwards towards the balconies above which also supported a variety of empty shelves. There were enough to hide an entire battalion above their very heads.

Randal was also watching the balconies, yet you could almost see the adrenaline in his eager eyes. His ears twitched as he tapped a claw to his fuzzy thigh nine times.

Pat let out a quick sigh at the noivern, having received his message. “Is that all?” she asked sarcastically as she pinched her nose to prevent from gagging at the smell. “And here I was thinking he let us keep the bags out of trust.”

“Stay focused,” Joy growled. “And stick to the plan. Don’t give Draggs a reason to attack us before we’re ready.”

Pat pursed her lips at the comment but quickly regained her composure as the group approached the end of the building.

There, illuminated by a lone beam of moonlight that slipped through a crack in the ceiling, was a bulky honchkrow with black streaks staining his red-and-white plumage. A black ribbon sat atop the puffy, hat-like top of his head while a set of needle-like daggers lined a leathery strap on his spindly legs.

Harry felt a pit in his stomach upon seeing the honchkrow’s bright yet tired expression. He stood up slowly before making his way down to the tyranitar.

“Harry,” Draggs addressed, extending his wing towards the tyranitar. “How was the raid?”

Harry gave a fake smile back, planting his hand in the honchkrow’s rough wing but continued to meet Draggs’ gaze. “All according to plan,” Harry stated. “Taking out the Spit-fire’s bank put the package right where you said it would. From there, it was easy enough to manipulate the bank manager into breaking into the vault.”

“So, you have it?” Draggs questioned.

“That’s what you hired us for, right?” Harry asked with a hint of aggression in his voice. He could almost hear Joy’s berating thoughts at the tone, but it wasn’t a slip in any sense of the word.

Draggs paused for a moment, obviously catching Harry’s change in tone. Yet just as quick as the change, Draggs dismissed it before holding out a wing for the package.

Harry reached into his bag and removed the package, holding it out for the honchkrow. Yet when Draggs reached for the package, Harry pulled it away and out of his reach. “Actually,” he began. “Before we start, I think we should talk.”

Draggs allowed a small chuckle to escape before he looked at the tyranitar with a demanding glare. “Harry,” he began calmly. “I can’t tell you what you want to know without inspecting the package.”

“Oh, I think you can,” Harry said.

Draggs eyed Harry curiously. He opened his beak to question what Harry was getting at before he stopped. Draggs released the package and sighed. “You opened the package, didn’t you?” he asked like a father questioning their disobedient child.

“We don’t want a fight, Draggs,” Harry said. “If it’s possible, we’d much rather talk things over.”

Draggs turned from the group, walking back towards the counter behind. He began stroking the surface with the tip of his wing, observing the dust that clung to his plumage with disgust. “What was the plan?” he asked calmly.

“Kicking your ass,” the noivern sneered.

Joy shot Randal a murderous glare before stating, “What he _means_ to say is that we’re prepared to fight if it comes down to it. But we can assure you, we’d rather no one get hurt.”

Harry took an insistent step towards Draggs. “We just want to talk-”

The tyranitar was cut off by the single pounding of Draggs’ closed fist on the counter. Concealed by Harry’s cape, his hand sifted through his bag’s messy contents for the rough handle of his knife. Draggs sighed deeply before leaning over the counter.

“Talk,” he said with a nod. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Why the deception?” Pat spoke up. “Why’d you lie to us?”

“Pat,” Joy warned. But the meowstic didn’t listen. Pat didn’t want to skirt around the tough questions and pray Draggs didn’t attack. If the honchkrow was going to fight, he would have decided before they got there. Nothing she said would make a difference, and she wanted answers.

“Why didn’t you just tell us what you wanted in the first place?” the meowstic continued. “Why tell us we were searching for plans on the Fire District when they were actually for the Center?”

Draggs took a step away from the counter before eyeing Pat with intrigue. “Let’s just say my leader knows more about what’s in the Fire District than he does the Center.”

“You said you wanted out of this city like the rest of us. So, why-”

Draggs cut the meowstic off with a sharp laugh. “It’s true what they say about you clairvoyants! So naïve!

“The West. All of you want to leave the City so badly that you’ll believe in anyone who says they want the same thing. You’ll believe every lie anyone tells you.”

Pat felt a growl within her chest struggling to get through her throat. A scowl escaped her calmed demeanor as she continued. “Did you ever want to leave the City, or was that just another lie?”

A meaty hand grabbed Pat by the shoulder and spun her around towards the aggravated granbull. “That’s enough,” she demanded in a whisper. “Get ahold of yourself. Now.”

“Let her speak,” Draggs urged. “She obviously has questions, and I don’t mind answering for the time being.” Draggs tapped a wing to the underside of his beak, pondering Pat’s previous question. “Did I ever want to leave… I did – still do, actually – but the simple fact is that there’s no future outside. To leave the city would be to run from everything, and that’s not my style. I’d rather change the world than run from it.

“Besides, The West is nothing more than a fairy-tale invented by _her_ kind.” Draggs pointed a wing towards Joy before continuing. “What do they say? A better future awaits those who traverse The West? Well, that’s what the pixies want everyone to believe so you stop looking at the real problems of society and focus on something else. It’s how them, the Fire, and the Ice Districts all stay in control.

“Let’s face the facts: our city was a stronghold built to survive an apocalypse that’s left everything outside in desolation. The only reason we’re still alive is because they built walls around _our_ city. If you manage to leave there’d be nothing for you except dehydration, starvation, and whatever hell destroyed everything outside.”

Joy could tell that every word Draggs spoke impacted Pat. Her breath began to quiver as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Yet she had the most murderous look in her snarl.

“We’re prisoners and you know it!” Pat spat.

Joy was about to make another move on Pat when Harry stepped towards the honchkrow, taking back the conversation saying, “As fun as this is, discussing ideologies isn’t why we’re here. I’d much rather know what your plan was after we gave you the documents.”

Draggs hummed aloud, tapping a feather on the side of his beak. “My original plan… is irrelevant.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Randal questioned.

Draggs quickly raised a wing into the air, ushering the sound of shuffling from overhead as seven dark-types emerged from behind the above shelves and shaded corners of the building.

Each pokemon stood up straight and wore a black ring scorched into their left arms. They eyed the pokemon below, awaiting another signal from their leader.

Harry pursed his lips as he scanned the readied stances of the dark-types: five above them and four below. He didn’t know whether to continue his confident act or admit that things were starting to look bad.

Randal spread his claws to his sides as if welcoming the impending battle whereas Pat and Joy raised their arms defensively.

“You never answered my question,” Harry stated, more to bide his time than anything, hoping to assess some sort of weakness in the pokemon above. “What’s your plan here?”

“It’s obviously to kill you, Harry,” Draggs stated as though it were fact.

The tyranitar sighed, shaking his head dismissively. “You’re smarter than this, Draggs. We still have your blueprints. Aren’t you worried about destroying it in the cross-fire?”

The honchkrow rolled his eyes at the tyranitar. “Was this your plan?” he asked. “Use the package as leverage to make a deal with the Dusk?”

Harry shrugged at the honchkrow. “It’s Plan A.”

“It’s a faulty plan, Harry. You see, it turns out I don’t actually need those blueprints.”

Harry felt the blood drain from his face as his entire group stared at Draggs. Out of everything they discussed, all the possibilities he went over with Joy, this was the one they both believed was impossible. “What?”

Draggs gave a huff as if finally bored by the tyranitar. “This meeting is more of a… formality at this point,” he said.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” Joy finally barked, more confused and infuriated than any of the members. “You risked your own ass to destroy the Fire District’s bank! And now you’re telling us… what? You didn’t actually care?”

Draggs looked sheepishly towards Harry. “Time for me to be completely honest – up until a week ago, the pokemon I work for had little clue that we – “we” as in you thieves and myself – were working together. Apparently, a little over a year ago, someone hired your group to steal from us.” At that statement, Harry could hear a groan in Joy’s throat.

“Now, I can overlook this for the sake of the Dusk’s goals. But our leader isn’t that forgiving. He’s convinced that, in the future, your group might be hired to steal from us again. Can you see where we might have a problem?”

“Then why hire us in the first place?” Pat questioned. “You must have talked with your boss before sending us to get the blueprints, so why work with us at all?”

“You’re good at what you do,” Draggs continued. “And those blueprints would make the Dusk’s goals a lot easier to realize. But the simple truth of the matter is that the Dusk was built upon reputation: one that you all damaged. So rather than keep you all alive, allowing pokemon to believe there might not be consequences to going against us, our leader would rather kill you.”

Harry was finally seeing most of the missing pieces fall into place. It was all starting to come together. “And what about the blueprints? You said they would make your job easier, right?”

“Compared to the damage your group did to the Dusk’s reputation, losing those blueprints is a very small price to pay if it means remedying the situation – or that’s how our leader sees it, at least.”

“Harry?” Randal urged with a grin.

Harry’s hand, which had sifted through every inch of his bag by now, was unable to find the blade. It curled into a tightened fist, defeated by the mess of his bag. As Harry mentally rolled his eyes, he settled for a small seed that fit comfortably in his hand.

“Is there any chance I can change your mind?” Harry asked one last time.

“If this were up to me, I’d pay you and be done with this,” Draggs admitted. “But it isn’t up to-”

Harry procured the seed from his bag, merely asking the question to catch Draggs off guard. The seed sped through the air, collided with the honchkrow’s beak, and exploded into a yellow, sparking cloud. As Draggs teetered backwards, he gasped in shock at the explosion of yellow. His lungs filled with the sparking cloud as he staggered into a wheezing fit, frantically waving his wing through the above air. Almost instantly, beams of black, pure energy shot from all sides towards the group.

Pat made quick work to open her ears and reveal her hidden eyes. She was instantly bathed in a pink aura as the surrounding, toppled shelves surrounded the group in a metal shield. The attacks panged against the rusted shelves but dispersed into the air on contact, leaving black marks against the rust.

Randal howled in excitement as he weaved between the shield of shelves with speed and ferocity, climbing the nearby pillar with his talons towards his first victim – a black raticate. They were too fixated on sending dark pulses towards the rest of the group to notice the noivern’s claws etched themselves into its furry back. Once their body collapsed onto the floor, Randal made a quick pace towards the next dark-type.

Joy side-stepped one of the floating shelves to throw one of her own small seeds towards a support for the balcony. Upon impact, the seed detonated, shattering the wooden support in a plume of smoke and a loud “crunch”, collapsing the third-story balcony onto a couple of pokemon. Wood and rubble buried any attempts at a shriek before Joy ducked back behind the shelves.

“I’d say this is going well,” Harry said before slamming his foot into the ground, summoning a spine of rock underneath a krokorok who thought he could rush the barrier. He watched through the cracks in Pat’s shield as the pokemon flew skywards towards the ceiling. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

In an instant, the shelves fell to the floor as Pat shouted in pain. A lucky dark pulse managed to slip in between the shelves and impact Pat’s arm, forcing her to the floor. She panted, feeling the energy drain from her seared fur as if it were an energy siphon.

The remaining pokemon took their opportunity, letting a few more bursts of darkness fly towards the group. Harry reacted quickly, stamping his foot to erect a wall of stones around Pat’s body, shielding her from the incoming wave. Indignant screams rang out as Pat pounded against the stones, but that was the least of Harry’s worries. He raised his arms defensively as the blasts streaked against his scales in staining darkness.

The attacks did little against Harry’s hide, but it was just enough to make the tyranitar sore. Yet upon seeing the meowstic was sealed within the stones, taken out of the fight, the attackers decided to switch tactics and fire off random blasts of energy – some water-based and others electrical. Yet there was little time before-

“Time to die!” Randal roared in ecstasy as he leapt the gap between balconies, catching the air beneath his damaged wings. About half-way between his jump, directly overhead of Harry and Joy, the noivern whipped his right wing through the air summoning a massive gust of wind powerful enough to shake Harry’s rock-hard stance. Joy leapt into the air, using the indoor blast of air to propel herself towards the balconies. From there, Harry stamped his foot summoning a final stone pillar underneath Joy’s foot, allowing her the decisive step she needed to cover the distance and land next to a couple of attackers. Joy swung her arms in the same way Randal did his wings, manipulating the aeolian force at her back. It whistled past the granbull and crashed into a couple of zweilous’ scaly chests, throwing them both through the wall and out into the craggy fields.

Randal’s soaring attack came to an end when his thick skull collided with sableye whose electrical blast ended in vain. The dark-type winced as much as a pokemon with diamonds for eyes could as the noivern opened his jaw, shooting a purple beam of energy down its throat. When Randal ceased the blast, the sableye’s body was limp and motionless.

As Harry’s mental count reached eight, he glanced cautiously around the building. No one was left, but he knew there had to be one more. He waited a few seconds for a blast of energy, knowing he could deal with whatever assault would come his way, but received nothing but Randal’s joyous jeers at fallen opponents. It was finished.

Harry walked towards Pat’s wall of stones, the meowstic still pounding on the rocks in desperation. He grabbed at the top of the stone before pulling towards himself, collapsing the rocks into dust and rubble. The instant the stones collapsed, the meowstic sprung to her feet, hyperventilating as she leaned on a nearby shelf to catch her breath. 

“Are you hurt?” Harry asked.

“Do you mean my body or my pride?” Pat began between breaths, raising an accusing eyebrow at Harry. He procured a blue berry from his sack and offered it to Pat.

“We were under fire,” Harry explained to the meowstic. “I had to improvise.”

“What the hell, Harry?!” Joy barked as she jabbed a fist into a crease in the tyranitar’s back. Harry’s body seized from the attack. He managed a couple of steps away from Joy, eyeing her in confusion.

“What?” he asked the granbull defensively. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joy snarled viciously, pointing an accusing finger at him. “The plan was to throw your _knife_ at Draggs, not a stun seed!”

“I-I had to… improvise?” Harry offered, yet his mind was taken away as he realized they were missing something.

Harry searched the surrounding area for any sign of the honchkrow but found nothing more than new rubble and the bodies of the Dusk’s members. “Where did Draggs go?” he questioned.

“He made it out the door a few seconds after the fight,” Pat stated in response to Harry’s shifting gaze. “One of the fighters and those mightyena from before helped him. They’re probably hiding out there in some hole.”

“I told you we’d be fine!” Randal cheered as he ran up to Joy, pulling her into a hug. The granbull was taken aback, surprised at his obliviousness to the conversation happening mere feet from him.

Pat sighed, cradling her arm as she walked over to Harry. “Joy’s right, you know. He wouldn’t have gotten away had you followed your own plan and threw the knife.”

“I know that,” Harry stated. “But _again_ , I had to improvise.”

Harry removed his bag from his shoulder before spilling its contents onto the floor. Pat glanced through the spill of items, searching for an object that should reflect the moonlight, yet to her dismay there was none to be found.

“What’s wrong?” Randal said, finally taking note of his own group’s lack of celebration. He glanced over Pat’s shoulder at the contents of Harry’s bag. “Why’d you dump your stuff, Harry?”

“Harry lost his knife,” Joy started with a glare at the tyranitar. “And that let Draggs get away.”

The noivern shook his head disapprovingly at the tyranitar. “Really, Harry?”

“I didn’t lose it,” Harry swore.

“Then where’s the knife?” Pat questioned. “Because it obviously isn’t here.”

Harry felt the back of his neck grow hotter as his eyes wandered around the building. “It’s… complicated,” he said slowly. He had merely a suspicion, though he wasn’t about to share it. Pat would never let him live down the humiliation if it were true.

“But you don’t have it,” Pat stated. “Therefore, you lost it.”

“I didn’t lose it!” Harry insisted.

“What’s it matter?” Randal said, swinging his wing around Pat’s neck, who allowed a small “ow” to escape her lips before pulling her hurt arm closer to her chest. “We improvised in the moment and pulled out a win! So, what if Harry used a knife or not?”

Joy pressed her left index finger to her temple as if strained by Randal’s ignorance. “Randy, we didn’t _just_ improvise. We had some form of a plan to work with.”

“Agree to disagree,” the noivern said before planting a kiss on the granbull’s forehead. She merely rolled her eyes in defeat.

“Aren’t we forgetting something?” Pat questioned. “We’re still in trouble.”

Randal smirked at Pat, saying, “One moron and his minions getting away doesn’t make any difference. After that spanking, the Dusk knows _we’re_ the ones to be respected!”

“I don’t think that’s right,” Pat said grimly. “The only thing the Dusk is going to take from this is to send twenty mons instead of nine. Not only that, but we lost our only source of information today.”

“True,” Harry said with a sigh. “But we’ll have to manage.”

“No,” Pat said forcefully, shaking Randal’s wing off her shoulder before taking a step towards Harry. “We can’t just dismiss this. If they find us-”

“We don’t have a choice,” Harry said with a worried glare. “We have to keep working towards getting out of the city, and we can’t just let fear stop us now – or would you rather we do nothing?”

“You’re oversimplifying things,” she stated. “This is the Dusk we’re talking about. They’re the biggest black-market smugglers in the City, and they kill people daily for reasons most pokemon never find out about. They’ll bury us.”

“Harry’s right,” Joy stated with a tight brow. She hated to agree with him after his massive blunder, but it must be said. “The only thing we can do is keep moving forward. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be careful, but we can’t just stop because we have enemies.”

“Never stopped us before,” Randal said with a sneer.

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry assured Pat. “All we need to do is make sure we don’t lead them back to base, and we should be fine for the next few months.”

Pat glared at Harry. Draggs brought nine pokemon because he thought they were just thieves. He knows they’re more than that, now. Why didn’t he understand that?

Nevertheless, she felt there would be nothing gained by protesting the point further, so she took a deep breath and regained her composure. She calmed her tone before saying, “We still have one problem; what do we do now that Draggs isn’t our informant?”

Randal’s jovial expression ceased before he looked to Harry for an answer, but instead Joy was the one to provide. “We keep our ears open and continue with our jobs.”

The noivern huffed in disapproval. “That’s our solution? We spent nearly two years before we started making some headway. How are we supposed to get out of this place like that?”

“We don't have a choice,” Harry stated calmly. “The fact is we don’t have anyone else right now.

“We’ll find someone eventually. For now, we’ll keep pushing until we do: we have to. The West is still out there, and after everything we’ve been through, we’re not stopping here. Agreed?”

Randal and Joy nodded in agreement, seeing no alternative. They would find something eventually. Pat took a moment to respond. As much as she hated how tonight turned out, they didn’t have a choice but to move on.

“Agreed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really need a beta-reader for these chapters. If anyone wants to volunteer, feel free to hit me up! I'd like to think I'm pretty cool to chat with, too. ;)


	4. The Council

## Chapter IV

## The Council

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**TINY SHARDS** of ice filled the air, fluttering at the mercy of the district’s chilly winds. The crunching of snow underneath the weavile’s feet irritated him. It was a faint annoyance – like someone skimming their fingertips over a board of chalk – but it was constant. He pulled a worn, white scarf tighter around his neck as a gust brushed the falling, white specks against his face.

 _Why did it always snow in this district?_ he thought, an annoyed look plastered to his curled lip.

The weavile despised the weather here. He preferred it when the sun was out, and the snowy carpet of their district turned to mush. But the other inhabitants of the Ice District – the pokemon he represented – enjoyed the overcast nature of their home. Making snowmons and igloos was a common past-time – one that showed by the many sculptures that painted the streets. Hell, they even had a daily ritual to bring more snow into the district.

And if constant snow on the outside of homes wasn’t bad enough, some bastard designed their buildings to bring snow into their houses, too. Every small, homey building was equipped with thin, foldable walls instead of windows – the only solid parts of the house being the foundation, roof, and a multitude of supports where most of the snow accumulated. Why the foldable walls? Why, for snow, of course. Foldable walls meant opening the house to the outside air, allowing it to blanket the indoor floors in – you guessed it – snow (of course, when the mood called for privacy, they could easily shut their walls, but who in their right mind would prefer discretion over snow?). The district’s lifestyle was enough to drive any outsider to hypothermia. But no, we were expected to appreciate the chilled atmosphere – coexist with it, almost as if we relied on it for life itself. Ha!

Outsiders would think them strange if they knew the inner workings of their district. Hell, the weavile thought it absurd, and he lived there.

You might ask yourself, “If he hated the snow so much, why doesn’t he just stay indoors?” Sadly, that was a luxury the weavile could not afford. He had responsibilities – more responsibilities than the other Ice-pops could handle. They would rather remain ignorant of the problems unfolding around them and live in the bliss and snow.

No, ignorant was the wrong word. These pokemon were blatantly overlooking the obvious issue of their fire-type neighbors.

No doubt they had heard about the Fire District’s bank having been, “hit by lightning”. If they stopped for even a second and thought it through, it was a painfully obvious farce. Yet the weavile knew these pokemon were malleable in their fear of watching their lifestyle – their idea of what their district was – melt away like the very snow they coveted.

“Tenebri,” a salazzle called out from ahead. Staring through the falling fragments of white, inside a building ahead of the weavile, sat a group of pokemon who all looked at the weavile. The salazzle in the group waved rapidly for the pokemon, pleading for him to stop dragging his feet and reach the group already.

Tenebri took his time, eventually stepping through the open-walled building and into what appeared to be a diner. He didn’t bother brushing the snow from his feet for obvious reasons.

An array of empty tables filled the building’s floor whilst hanging, yellow lights dotted the ceiling like bright stars. In the center of the room sat a group of six pokemon who previously pulled two tables together forming one big enough for their group. On one side of the table sat the salazzle from before, a magcargo, and an infernape – each pokemon being the fire-type representative on the Council of Seven. Across from the fire-types sat (or in this case floated) a glalie and an aurorus, the latter of which laid outside the building, snaking its head across the floor to fit inside (Tenebri was surprised she could even live in their district given her inability to fit into buildings not specifically catered to pokemon of her… height). At the far end of the table, with a pout affixed to her sunken face, sat a sylveon whose pelt dripped with melting snow.

The weavile took an empty seat between the glalie and aurorus before kicking his snow-covered feet onto the table, leaning back in his seat.

As he sat, a froslass with a notepad came strolling towards him – no doubt to ask if he wanted something from the tap to drink. Tenebri merely shooed the froslass away before scowling towards the magcargo who called him here in the first place. “What’s this about, Keres?”

“If this is about your bank,” the glalie grumbled.

“There’s been a new development in the situation,” the magcargo stated grimly. “We all know about the robbery in the Center right?”

“Get on with it, Keres,” the weavile grumbled from his seat. The other ice-types all nodded in response while the sylveon merely listened intently.

“Well,” the salazzle spoke up, absentmindedly picking at her teeth. “Let’s just say Alastor was correct in wanting to keep the blueprints in district.”

The glalie, Alastor, shot upwards with an intense – and almost triumphant – scowl. “I knew it!” he blared at the magcargo. “Trusting you with the blueprints was a mistake!”

“Sit. Down. Now.” the magcargo demanded flatly. The flame which spouted from a divot in its shell flared with each syllable. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

“Why did we trust Keres with the blueprints in the first place?!”

“Because his great grandfather was the producer of those blueprints,” Tenebri, the weavile, stated from his seat. “If anyone were to take care of them, it should have been him.”

“I made a mistake,” the magcargo said almost proudly. “But let’s not pretend that this is irrecoverable. We know who took the documents.”

Keres nodded towards the infernape who procured a set of papers – bearing the red seal of a six-pronged star stamped to each page – And spread them across the table for the others to see.

The papers, handwritten in charcoal, were a detailed report that recounted a bank manager’s testimony regarding a robbery of his bank. A curvy signature of one, “Sergeant Berdine Lynn of the Center’s Peacekeeping Division” had been scrawled in ink on a line at the bottom.

Alastor the glalie summoned a small gust of wind only strong enough to float the pages down the table so he could read. Yet as the papers drifted towards him, the weavile snatched the papers from the air before quickly reading through the entirety of the document. The glalie stared blankly at him before huffing in annoyance.

When the weavile was done, he splayed the papers neatly in front of the glalie for him to read.

“A tyranitar…” Tenebri huffed with familiarity as he tapped his white claws against his chin in thought.

The sylveon’s ears perked upwards at the mention of the tyranitar. “A rock-type?” she asked.

“The Thieves’ Guild did this?” the glailee questioned, rereading the report just to confirm what he said to be true. “That could be a problem…”

“But what about your district’s bank?” the aurorous asked. “We all know it’s destruction was no random occurrence. Could these pokemon truly have the resources to destroy it?”

“Perhaps the Dusk is involved,” the salazzle suggested. “Wouldn’t be the first time those _Smugglers_ interfered with our government.”

The infernape shook his head swiftly. “That report says the Thieve’s Guild is comprised of a fairy-type. The Dusk never works with Pixies: ever.”

“Though I normally I tend to agree with you, Deidre,” Tenebri began, “I would advise against absolutes. It makes you look foolish.”

“With your choice in fashion, you’re one to talk,” the salazzle said snidely, shooting Tenebri’s scarf a mocking smile.

The weavile ignored the comment entirely, merely readjusting the white garment before he continued. “Why is this tyranitar a concern?”

“You know why,” the magcargo stated. “These pokemon knew what they were taking, implying they know what’s on those blueprints.

“Dr. Giraldo is mere weeks away from finishing the project. If they find the lab’s location before-”

“Councilmen, Councilwomen,” Tenebri began, loudly cutting the magcargo off. He shot up from his chair, bounding onto the table in a single motion to clearly address the group. “I assure you that this is not as big of a concern as you are all making it out to be.”

“Isn’t it?” the sylveon asked, finally speaking up. The table looked towards her with raised eyebrows, surprise, and above all, irritation. “Assuming this tyranitar isn’t working with the Dusk, he’s from the Rock District. And if that’s the case, there’s no doubt in my mind he’ll want all of us dead. To assume he isn’t a problem is-”

As Tenebri brought down a foot onto the table’s surface, the sylveon grimaced, covering her face defensively with her ribbons.

“Are you forgetting your position in our council, Azazel?” Tenebri questioned the sylveon with a glare. “Let me remind you that your role is not to participate but to carry out instructions.”

The sylveon’s lip tinged with annoyance, though she did not speak. Her scowling gaze found itself fixated to a chair at her side.

Tenebri cleared his throat before continuing. “As I was saying, I sincerely doubt some dirt-licker knows what secrets those blueprints hold. Given the Thieve’s Guild’s reputation in the Center, he stole them for some power-mad idiot searching for information about The Center – maybe someone in the Dusk. And even if our worst fears are realized and these thieves know about the weapon, what does it matter? Do any of you honestly believe some band of thieves can fight their way past our army of Steel Enforcers?”

Plenty of gazes shifted about the room to one another as if looking for some disagreement, but Tenebri wasn’t about to wait for someone to speak up. “Beyond that, how would anyone know what the weapon looks like? Only Dr. Giraldo and the seven of us have seen the prototypes, and no one here has seen the final product.” He looked towards the sylveon through the corner of his eye, allowing his fangs to protrude menacingly from his lip. “We can also trust each other to have kept our mouths shut, correct?”

The sylveon felt her heart retreat towards the back of her chest, though she kept a calm expression fixated on the chair.

The magcargo’s lava-like skin bubbled in irritation at Tenebri’s boldness. “And you would risk this? You would have all of us risk months of preparation on nothing but your own hunch?”

“We have no reason to believe these thieves know anything about the weapon,” Tenebri assured. “And there’s no reason they’ll look close enough at the blueprints to find it. So, why worry about problems that don’t exist?”

The weavile said nothing more, stepping off from the table’s edge. Retaking his seat, the weavile kicked his legs onto the table once more, allowing snow to slump sadly onto the surface.

“Tenebri does have a point,” the aurorus acknowledged with a nod in his direction. “As long as Giraldo has stayed in his lab, no one should know about the weapon.”

“We could post some more Steel Enforcers around the building just to be safe,” the glalie suggested.

The salazzle slowly rubbed the bridge of her nose, tightly shutting her eyes in disbelief. “We specifically chose _that_ spot to be inconspicuous,” she groaned as if it were obvious, being vague due to the present company – namely the sylveon.

“Why did you call me here?” the sylveon complained from her depressing slump. “Want me to lie to a couple more pokemon than usual?”

“I’d watch your tone if I were you, Pixie,” the weavile warned, not bothering to look around the aurorus’ neck to face the sylveon.

“We called you in to put some feelers out through the city,” the magcargo said. “Regardless of whether the tyranitar is an immediate problem or not, someone knows something they are not supposed to. Find the tyranitar so we can learn who he works for.”

The infernape leaned in closer towards Azazel the sylveon, aggressively breathing on her neck through the slits of his face. The sylveon slowly backed away from him, her pulse racing through her body as each breath seemed to threaten a blow.

“Deal with him before he becomes a problem,” the infernape growled. “Or we’ll get a new ‘representative’ for the Fairy District.”

“He won’t cause us any issues,” the weavile assured from his spot.

The sylveon shut her eyes before nodding slowly, hoping that would be enough for the infernape. It seemed to do the trick, as the fiery monkey drew back into his own chair.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Tenebri questioned. Yet there was no response. The only noise in the room was a soft breeze blowing more snow across the floor. Tenebri nodded in satisfaction before planting his feet onto the snow-covered ground. “In that case, I have other matters to attend to. Councilmen. Councilwomen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo guys and gals! Is the chapter shorter than normal? Yes. Yes, it is. But that’s only because I’ve unofficially broken this one into two parts. The other stuff I wanted in this chapter took a lot more writing than I had originally anticipated to the point where it’s as long as a normal chapter. That, and I decided it will be its own thing as, "Special Chapter I". So, instead of adding so much that you feel like a stretched-out piece of putty, here’s a shorter chapter for you. Enjoy!
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, guys! I’ll see you in the next chapter!


	5. Arianna

# Chapter V

# Arianna

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_Dear reader,_

_Today on the fifteenth day of Arceum, another riot has broken out amongst residents of the Center. As you may know, pokemon of the Center have been complaining for months about the laws associated with the transport of corpses into the Ghost District to be disposed of, calling them, “Irreverent” and “disrespectful to families”._

_“Why’d they have to take my brother?” one of the angry rioters jeered at our reporter. “It’s bad enough he had to die! Why does the government insist he be buried in a district I’m not even a member of?!?”_

_The Council of Seven have issued a statement on the matter which reads, “Citizens of the Center, we ask of you to remain calm. We have heard your complaints, and our hearts reach out to the ones who have lost family members. Even so, we ask that you refrain from participating in these barbaric riots._

_“It has been the Ghost District’s job for decades to bury the dead to ensure the continued survival of our city. This has been our city’s way for over fifty years, and it will continue to be so._

_“Remember, we all have jobs we must complete for the betterment of our fair city. Ignore the misconducts of your brother and stay true to our city’s values.”_

_We at the Center Chronical ask that you remember these words from our illustrious council. And if you happen to know any of these rioters, please uphold your civic duties and report them to your friends in the Steel Enforcers._

_This is Gabby Gabby of the Center Chronical, wishing you a safe day in the Center._

\- A Snippet from the Center Chronical

~ ~ ~

Nearly a month had passed since the thieves’ encounter with Draggs. Each day became its own waiting game, everyone anticipating the worst for the group. Every night during diner, when the group huddled together around a table inside a darkened burrow like some form of dysfunctional family, Pat posed the same question: “How long until the Dusk sends a search party to kill us all?”

Admittedly, Harry was becoming skeptical if a search party would ever be sent looking. Randal could perk his ears throughout the whole day all he wanted, and Joy could patrol the passageways below for an eternity – Harry knew if the Dusk truly wanted them killed, they would all be just another group of faces lost to the burrows of the Rock District.

Regardless of whether Harry felt they were safe, Pat’s tails ruffled together as she insisted, they remain hidden. “It’s only a matter of time,” she would say. “They’ll find us eventually.” Funny how that tune changed the day they ran out of food.

And when that day arrived, Harry packed his bag, donned his dusty, worn cloak, and headed above the safety of their burrow to gather supplies with the meowstic.

They made their way from the Rock District into the Center. The sky today held no clouds, allowing the sun to warm the cobblestone underfoot. The two walked across the streets with little worry. As according to plan, today happened to be a day of worship. Other than the few pokemon who couldn’t be bothered with worship, most pokemon were in churches asking their gods for a better life. Harry couldn’t say he believed in any of that, but it made the streets a lot less crowded, meaning less pokemon could identify him or Pat. And those who stayed out didn’t mind the tyranitar or his group.

So, Harry and Pat walked the streets undisturbed, debating simple things with each other as if they were friends. They would always chat like this whenever they found themselves alone, and they would do so about the simplest topics some might find as boring as a block of wood. This time, their topic happened to be grass.

“Do you think the grass is blue outside?” Pat asked, tapping a claw to her chin as they walked across the cold cobblestone.

“Blue?” Harry asked with some confusion to his smile, imagining what would cause such a strange phenomenon. “Why wouldn’t it be green like the grass in here?”

“You make it sound like a dumb idea,” Pat said with a dignant shake of her tail. “But why should anything outside the walls be like anything like what’s in, hmm?”

“Because that’s how the world works,” Harry stated.

“How should we know?” Pat questioned, stopping at a nearby stall filled with an assortment of herbs and berries. She took hold of a few leafy herbs and observed them closely as she continued with, “We’ve been stuck in this place all our lives, right? Who’s to say the grass here is some off variation that’s evolved.”

“Evolved?” Harry snickered at the suggestion. “Plants don’t evolve, Pat. They grow and die.”

“We grow and die, too, right?” Pat asked. “But can we be certain that there’s no blue grass outside?”

“If you go with that logic,” Harry began with a smirk. “Who’s to say there’s anything outside the walls to begin with? Maybe it’s exactly what the Council tells us – it’s all blackened grounds and mindless pokemon.”

Pat took her eyes from the plants to stare at Harry with the most unbelieving and disapproving raise to her brows Harry had ever seen, like his comment was barely noteworthy. Harry chuckled to himself.

“You know better than anyone that’s a lie,” Pat stated.

“Yeah – it’s almost as wild a claim as blue grass, huh?” Harry said.

“It could exist!” Pat insisted, bagging a few of the herbs before placing three golden sticks as thin as a feather into the hand of a throw – the shopkeeper.

“All I’m saying,” Harry said as they walked back into the middle of the street, “is that it’s a little unbelievable.”

“Well, as Ho-oh raises the sun, I’ll prove to you that the outside has blue grass the moment we get out. Sound fair, Harry?”

Harry smirked to himself as they continued but found his step halted by a thud against his ankle. Harry stopped in place. His eyes scanned the space at his feet for whatever could have caused that thump only to find his smile erased with disbelief.

“Harry?” Pat asked, glancing around her shoulder to find the tyranitar stopped in the middle of the road. She tilted her head in confusion. There, rubbing their head as though it were sore, sat a little steenee girl with a purple band wrapped around her right arm.

Harry reached down towards the girl and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her upwards so he could get a better look at her. The steenee looked on at Harry with a sheepish grin, tucking her legs inwards nervously. Yet a single glance at her arms – towards the faded bruises – forced Harry’s face into a look of shock.

“You again?” Harry asked with confusion.

“H-hi…” the steenee greeted, her voice sounding as small as she was. “Mind putting me down?”

“Who is that?” Pat questioned with an accusing glance towards Harry. “And how does she know you?”

“She’s-” Harry started before his eyes set on the girl’s right hand. There, planted in her grip, was the familiar, rusted blade of Harry’s knife.

He quickly snatched up the knife from the girl and set it into his bag, hoping Pat wouldn’t notice. Yet one gasp from the meowstic confirmed that Harry’s movement hid nothing.

“Was that your knife?” Pat asked with a smile, placing a hand on her hip as she scoffed towards the tyranitar. “The knife you said you lost?”

“Pat,” Harry said through a forced smile. “Please. That wasn’t my knife. Clearly, that knife belonged to a fool.”

“I know,” Pat said as she walked up to the two. She looked towards the Steenee with a glee that made Harry groan. “Now, tell me, steenee girl. How did you manage to take a knife from this beast of a pokemon?”

As the steenee shrugged her shoulders, Harry held the girl away from Pat. He used his body as a barrier between the two. “Is this really the time?” he asked with reddened cheeks.

“Who is she?” Pat asked Harry, her eyes wandering around Harry towards the steenee girl.

“M-my name’s Ravera, ma’am,” the steenee said sheepishly. “Are… you friends with Mr. Green?”

“If you’re talking about this bag of stones here,” Pat said with a playful jab at the flustered tyranitar, “then yeah. You could say we’re friends.”

“Stop entertaining this,” Harry told Pat. “The kid’s leaving. Isn’t that right, kid?”

Harry set the steenee on the floor and took Pat by the arm, pulling her away from the steenee before he suffered any more ridicule. Yet the steenee foiled his plans at moving on as she wrapped herself around his ankle. Harry sighed as he raised his foot upwards, eyeing the girl with irritation.

“Kid, this is getting ridiculous. Let go of my leg.”

“I can’t!” the girl shouted.

“Yes, you can. It’s simple: just relax your muscles and I’ll do the rest, alright?” Harry took hold of the girl and began pulling her from his leg. Yet with each pull, he felt the girl’s grip getting tighter and tighter. Soon, it was as if a vice clamped itself to his leg.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked through gritted teeth, trying his best to pry the steenee from his leg.

“Because I have nowhere to go!” the steenee shouted. “And your home looks so cozy!”

“Hold on,” Harry said with another pull. “You’ve seen where I live? Does that mean you’ve been following me?”

“I didn’t know what to do!” the steenee said. “When you saved me from Mr. and Mrs. Leander, I didn’t have anywhere to go!”

“Uh… Harry?” Pat said. As Harry took his eyes from the steenee, he looked towards Pat.

Her tails trailed along the floor behind her. Her face showed no signs of a smile. Her hands tightened into fists as her brows knitted with concern.

Then, it occurred to Harry they had a problem on their hands – or in this case, in his claws.

“You’ve seen where we live?” Harry asked again, this time his eyes filled with a seriousness that forced the girl into stillness.

“Hey Rivera,” Pat said as she slowly walked towards the steenee. Maybe it was the intensity in Pat’s voice, or maybe the assurance in her eyes that the steenee wouldn’t be harmed. But for whatever reason, when Pat grasped the steenee from under her arms to lift her from Harry, she complied. “How about we get you something to eat and we’ll talk?”

“Talk…?” the steenee asked cautiously. “Talk… about what…?”

“We need to know what you’ve seen, alright?”

The steenee’s lip twitched with uncertainty. Clearly, she didn’t trust Pat one bit. She took a step backwards as if getting ready to run, but Harry set a hand on her shoulder, keeping her firmly in place. Her eyes darted towards his face, but he showed no malice, nor did he intend to do her harm.

“We just want to talk,” Harry assured the girl.

She stared at both the thieves for a couple of seconds. Harry wasn’t sure if she planned to run for it or die on the spot. Based on her twitching lip, he wouldn’t be surprised if she did either. Yet she merely rubbed her arm and said, “A-alright…”

Pat forced a smile as she stepped back and clapped her paws together, saying, “Alrighty, then! In that case, what do you want?”

~ ~ ~  
  


The three pokemon made their way through the streets at a steady pace, Pat leading the group followed by the steenee while Harry brought up the rear. They eventually stepped to the side of the road where a stone bench stood – it sat beneath a shade, protecting whoever sat there from the sun.

Pat took a seat and patted the side of the bench, offering the steenee the remaining space. She did as Pat instructed, leaving Harry to stand in the sunny road for their chat.

“Here,” Pat said, reaching into her bag and pulling out some of the herbs they previously purchased – these ones being of a viny variety, shining with a violet hue despite the shade.

Harry couldn’t say the offer pleased him. Afterall, these herbs belonged to the thieves – not the steenee. They needed those herbs to stay hidden. Then again, Pat offering them to the steenee might serve as a peace offering. If she eats, she’ll talk. Best to suck it up and learn what they need to.

“It’s alright to eat,” Pat said with a small shake of the herbs. “I promise it’s safe. They’re-”

“Oran Root?” the steenee asked with a wandering gaze.

Surprise tinted Pat’s smile. “Yeah. How did you…?”

“It was Momma’s favorite. If Master Isha let us keep a small strand, Momma used it to make our soup taste good.”

As the steenee reached towards the herbs, her eyes set on Pat’s free hand. With every inch she gained, the steenee’s eyes remained unwavering. Even after she took the herbs from Pat, she never stopped looking at those blue paws – almost as if in anticipation.

“Alright,” Pat began as the steenee took a bite into the herbs. “Let’s start with what you know about us.”

“What… do you wanna know?” the girl asked.

“Have you been following us?” Harry asked shortly, his arms interlaced to further drive the tyranitar’s seriousness.

The steenee’s eyes set onto the floor as if ashamed as she said, “Y-yes…”

“How long?” Harry asked.”

“Don’t mind him,” Pat said with a glare towards the tyranitar. “He’s just a hungry, old grouch.”

Harry raised a brow at Pat. Here they were, talking to a steenee thief who, apparently, followed them home. What did she expect, coddling?

Yet at the same time, Harry caught the steenee sneak the smallest of smiles from Pat’s comment. He also noticed her shoulders slouch as she leaned backwards onto her palms. That comment alone relaxed her.

“So… Rivera, right?” Pat asked, to which the steenee nodded a couple of times. “How long have you been following us?”

Rivera the steenee kicked her feet over the bench as a nervous smile played across her lips. “Uh… Since the bar…”

“The… bar?” Pat asked the tyranitar.

“So, you saw the fight with that big, black bird?” Harry asked the steenee, referring to their encounter with Draggs. The steenee nodded her head. Harry heaved a heavy sigh.

“Then you’re the reason Harry didn’t have his knife,” Pat said with a nod. “How’d you manage to do that?”

“Same way I took your necklace,” the steenee said, offering her hand out to Pat.

Pat gasped at the golden chains dangling from the steenee’s hand. The meowstic’s paws rushed to her neck in disbelief. Was she mistaken? Yet, sure enough, Rivera managed to snatch the golden chain hanging around Pat’s neck from under her nose.

Not only did it surprise Pat, but Harry was just as shocked. He watched the steenee the entire time, right? Yet somehow, she managed to take Pat’s necklace from under both of their noses. Was it during a blink? Perhaps it was when Harry looked towards Pat?

“H-how… did you-” Pat asked, stumbling on her own words as she took the necklace back from the steenee.

“I’m a good thief,” Rivera the steenee proclaimed. “Momma said I’m the greatest there ever was.”

“You sure are…” Pat said with a look towards Harry that said, “Do you see this girl?”

“Back to the point at hand,” Harry said with a firm voice. “You took my knife and have been following me for a month. Does that mean you know exactly where we live?”

The steenee’s calmed posture dropped at the question. “I… guess…” Rivera said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“What do you mean by that, sweetie?” Pat asked.

“I mean… I saw you guys enter those holes in the ground… is that where you live?”

Neither thief answered the girl. Instead, their eyes met and they both confirmed they understood the situation before them. Their shared looks of concern told each thief their friend owned the same thoughts.

Pat passed another Oran Root towards the steenee and said, “Sit here for a second.” She stood and walked towards Harry, standing on her toes to whisper audibly.

“She knows where we live…” Harry grumbled.

“Did you think she wouldn’t? I mean, she’s admitted to stalking you, right? She’ll have seen the burrow we live in.”

Harry sighed once more. This was a travesty. If anything could kill a day, someone finding your secret lair did.

“What are we going to do with her?” Pat asked. “We can’t let her go. She’ll tell someone about us eventually. She’s just a kid after all.”

“We could kill her,” Harry suggested.

Pat planted her fist into his chest hard enough to move the tyranitar’s rock-hard body backwards. She then grimaced hard enough to hear as she clutched her fist. She stopped swearing underneath her breath long enough to hiss, “We are NOT killing a child!”

“I’m joking, Pat,” Harry said half-heartedly. Admittedly, he did so more to keep Pat off his back then to tell the truth. “Then again... what’s the alternative? Letting her join?”

Harry made himself laugh merely suggesting the possibility. How low would they have to be to let a little girl join a group of thieves? Yet as his chuckle reverberated across the streets, Pat didn’t even snicker. It took the tyranitar a second to realize it.

Having regained his composure, Harry squinted in confusion. “No,” he said aloud, not even bothering to hide his disapproval.

“Put it to a group vote,” Pat urged. “Clearly majority rules would be the verdict on adding a member – just like it’s always been.”

“She’s, like, ten!”

“Eleven,” the steenee interjected.

Harry silenced the steenee with a point of his index. “We’re talking, alright? Or did you want me to take back that Oran Root?” Rivera the steenee pulled her herb closer as she took another juicy bite. “That’s what I thought.”

“Harry, listen to me-” Pat urged.

“No,” Harry insisted. “We’re not some kind of home for runaway slaves, alright? And we’re most certainly not a nursery!”

“I don’t expect us to be,” Pat assured. “We can use her in the group, Harry, and you know it! I mean, she stole my necklace while both of us were watching, and we didn’t see a thing! We can use that!”

“While yes, we can technically use her skills, I don’t see any long-term need! Most of our missions are smash-and-grab, anyways!”

“She seems like a good thief!” Pat continued to protest.

“She’s a child! She’d be dead long before we get any actual use out of her!”

Pat made to say something else – or at least it seemed that way by the way she raised her paw as if preparing to reprimand the tyranitar, yet she hesitated. Her eyes drifted across the features in Harry’s face as if in an intense search. It sent Harry’s heart into a panic. What did she see in him? Did she notice his fear?

A sigh forced its way through Pat’s teeth while she stepped away. “We put it to a vote,” she said. “You can’t debate me on this one.”

“Why are you fighting to keep that girl?” Harry questioned. “It’s not like you or the group gains anything by keeping her around, so why?”

He asked that, but he already knew the answer. As sassy as Pat acted, she owned demons of her past. She wasn’t unlike the steenee girl before them at one point – abandoned by her family and seen by most as someone else’s problem.

As a child, Pat owned all the good perks in life – a warm bed, toys to play with, friends at her school in the Psychic District – she even had younger siblings hanging from her arms. Yet the one thing she had that no one else did was a dream.

Some mornings, Pat talked about her old life like a sad memory. She told the group how, as a kid, there were tall towers across the entirety of the Psychic District, and Pat use to climb each and every one with the hopes that this tower – this tall structure which adults said shot up above everything, even the wall itself – could be the thing that gave Pat a glimpse at the outside world. Her dream was to explore, not unlike most children. Though there was only so much to see inside the walls of the city. So, she decided to escape the city and see what she describes even to this day as, “the unseen”. But not everyone in Pat’s family shared her dreams.

You see, in the Psychic District, they weren’t above treating children cruelly for dreaming about the outside world. Families torn in two could tell you why it happened – dreaming about the outside is a crime. It doesn’t take much to die in the city. Maybe that’s why Pat’s father did it – to protect the rest of the family from a girl too prideful to change her mind about the outside world – too stubborn to change her dream. With her siblings repeating everything Pat said, they would be killed as well; or maybe they’d be taken from their parents to be taught how good children should act. Whatever the terrifying thought was, it made Pat’s father see his own child like a bruise on an apple. If it weren’t dealt with, it could infect the whole. So, he removed the bruise entirely.

At a youthful age, rejected by her family and thrown into harsh reality, Pat became alone and without anyone to call her brother. Because of her dreams of adventure, Pat became stuck in a battle for survival. And that’s how she lived until she met up with Randal and Joy.

So, Harry already knew her interest in this child didn’t stem from wanting a new member in their group. That was just another fantasy Pat invented – a thin one at that. No, this steenee reminded the meowstic of herself. That’s why she wanted a vote. But…

Harry looked down at the steenee. The girl sat there with patience, kicking her feet absentmindedly while glancing down the streets nervously. Those bruises had begun to fade, but she looked mangy and unkempt. The massive leaves she adorned seemed heavy to the girl. She looked to be doing poorly under these conditions. Not that Harry cared.

Harry’s eyes rolled around in his skull as he pursed his lips. “If she can take my knife from me without me noticing,” he said just loud enough for the steenee to hear, “we’ll put it to a vote.”

With that statement, the steenee’s head perked up, her eyes becoming as bright as the sun as she jumped from the bench and tackled the tyranitar in a hug. “Thank you!” she cried with immense joy into his leg. “Thank you so much!”

“H-hey, kid!” Harry said, reeling back from the sudden tackle. “You still haven’t taken my-” Even as he said it, the steenee looked up at him with the biggest smile imaginable, holding the rusted blade in her right hand. Suffice to say, this did not please the tyranitar. “You already took it, didn’t you?” he asked, unamused by this obvious fact.

“Then we might as well introduce you to the group, huh Rivera?” Pat said, yet she tapped a claw to her chin in thought. “Now, onto the question of your name…”

“You act like she’s already in,” Harry reproached.

The steenee looked up at Pat with a confused tilt of her head. “Besides… You already have my name,” she said.

Pat laughed a little at the girl’s reaction. “No, your thief name. See, ‘Pat’ isn’t really my hatch-name: it’s Dee. Pat’s just the name I’m going by so no one else knows who I am. Understand?”

“Pat’s… a fake name?” the girl asked. As she thought about it, her head continued to tilt further and further in confusion. “I still don’t get it…”

“If Peacekeepers knew who we were it would cause trouble for us,” Harry explained.

“That makes a bit more sense… So, does that mean I get a new name?”

“Sure does,” Pat stated.

“Then I wanna be called… ‘Arianna’.”

“Pretty name, Arianna,” Pat complimented, to which the steenee girl playfully flicked one of her leaves as if she already knew that to be fact.

“If that’s finished,” Harry began, “Let’s get moving. We’ve still got some supplies to buy, and then there’s voting on whether she gets to stay.”

~ ~ ~

When their shopping concluded, the three pokemon made their way past the berry-stained memorial and into the Rock District. Taking their normal path, they found themselves descending into the orange-walled pit of crystals and forgotten burrows. There, standing below the catwalk, was a confused and very irritated noivern, Randal. He shouted something into the nearest burrow. That’s when the granbull, Joy, joined him on the catwalk see the source of Randal’s calling.

“You didn’t spend all of our money on a slave, did you?” Joy asked Harry in a terse tone.

“Relax,” Harry told the granbull. “I have our supplies in the bag.”

“This is Arianna,” Pat introduced with a smile.

“H-hi,” the steenee greeted with another nervous smile, though she went pale as her eyes set on the noivern.

Randal took a few steps towards the steenee. His head snaked its way down to her level, looking over her with a careful gaze. The steenee merely stood there on the wooden catwalk, looking as stiff as an oar. And Randal seemed to take joy in this.

“If you didn’t spend our money on this girl, how in the hell did you manage to get her? You didn’t steal her, did you?”

“No, nothing like that,” Harry sighed.

“I have a more important question,” Joy snapped. Randal, noticing her eyes were as cold as ice, stepped away from the steenee to let Joy approach Harry. “Why is she here?”

“That’s the thing,” Harry explained. “Apparently, she’s been following me for the last month. She’s also been living in one of the nearby pits. I guess she got careless today and ran head-first into me.”

“Come to think of it,” Pat said with a tap to her chin. “Why was she following you in the first place?”

“H-Harry saved… my life,” the girl explained in a whisper, still watching Randal with fear.

“That wouldn’t happen to be on the same night you went drinking, right?” Joy accused. “The same night we went to see Draggs a month ago?”

Harry grimaced at the claim. Joy hit the nail on the head, as she normally did. And she didn’t pull any punches either.

“Joy-” Harry started.

“I knew you did stupid things when drunk, but saving a slave girl from what I can only assume is their masters… That takes the cake.”

“We have bigger concerns right now,” Harry urged. “You guys need to vote on what to do with her.”

“What’s there to decide?” Joy questioned. “She knows where we live. If the council ever found our location, we’d be dead by morning. It’s her life or ours.”

The steenee finally broke free of her stiffness as she took a couple steps backwards and into Harry. “W-when did k-killing me become an o-option?” she asked in a panic.

“It’s not!” Pat snapped at the granbull. “She’s just a child! We’re not killing her!”

“Then what would you propose we do?” Joy asked, crossing her arms together whilst glowering at Pat. “We can’t let her live or she’ll be caught by Steel Enforcers and sold to the highest bidder, and we all know the possibility of that being a government official is higher than not.”

“She’s stayed hidden at least a month, so I don’t think anyone’s looking for her. And she’s an expert thief.”

“Is she?” Joy questioned, looking to Harry for confirmation. He merely bit his tongue and nodded in confirmation. “And when you say thief, what kind do you mean?”

“She’s the one who took Harry’s knife.”

“Three times!” the steenee child interjected.

“Then you want her to join our group,” Joy finished.

“Why not?” Pat asked. “Me, you, and Randal – we all started this group as kids. We’ve been stealing from rich pokemon all our lives. And you said yourself we’d have been better off if we had a pickpocket to take keys from guards or snatch jewels! She could work!”

“And how did you feel about this?” Joy asked Harry.

“I think it’s a bad idea to bring the kid in our group,” Harry said, keeping his reasons to himself.

“I think it might be a good idea,” Randal said with a smile. “Having a slave around has its perks.”

Pat’s jaw hung at the noivern’s comment but shook it off as fast as a duck to water. “That’s two-to-one,” she said, leaving the final vote to Joy.

Harry honestly didn’t know what the granbull would say. He had his hopes, but honestly, she could swing either way. Pat made a good point – Harry didn’t join the group until later, but he did know about the other three members having been kids when this group began. “The Thieving Tykes” – as they were known – were known even to the Rock District. So, the possibility that this steenee could be a useful addition kept some ground. But still – a child had no place amongst thieves. Period.

Joy closed her eyes and shook her head, turning from the group with, “I don’t care what happens. Just don’t get in the way and we’ll be fine, understand?”

Harry felt his brow tense in irritation, heaving a deep sigh. He knew that meant Joy was abstaining from the vote, leaving it two-to-one. The girl would stay.

“Then… does that mean…” the steenee began with wide eyes of joy.

“It’s official!” Pat cheered, kneeling to the steenee’s level with a smile. “Welcome to the group, Arianna.” The meowstic held out her blue paw in an open shake to which Arianna returned with a hug. Pat was caught off-guard for merely a second before returning the gesture.

“Fine,” Harry sighed. “Welcome to the group and what-not.” He stepped around Pat and Arianna, trying to keep his emotions in check as he walked towards the entrance of his own burrow. Despite the calmed attitude he tried to keep up, he felt panic rising inside him He needed to leave and get some time alone, but not before saying one, final thing to the girl.

“You’re part of this group, now. But that doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want, understand? You’re expected to pull your weight and do what you’re told. Understand?”

The steenee, Arianna, broke away from Pat and looked at Harry with a seriousness he’d only seen in adults – never in a child. To tell the truth, it surprised him.

“I won’t cause problems, sir,” the steenee assured him. Then, she bowed low enough that she could lick the floor.

Harry couldn’t help but scowl at this act. With a final roll of his eyes, the tyranitar entered the darkened burrow, leaving the group behind.

~ ~ ~

If there was one thing the tyranitar loved about his burrow home, it was the silence. Each one separated by a thick layer of dirt and rock meant Harry could lie alone with his thoughts. Walking past the wooden furniture of the front room, beyond the stains of alcohol across the polished flooring, he lied onto a bed of hay and did just that. He didn’t even bother taking off his cloak. He just needed to be alone with his thoughts.

Harry’s rough hand drifted towards the bulge in his cloak – right above his heart. There, he reached into the internal pocket of his jacket, procuring a small gemstone from the bulge. The gemstone – an orange topaz with blotches of black tainting the edges as if infecting its colored hue – represented everything to Harry. That’s why he always kept it close to his heart.

Harry held the gemstone up into the darkness of the burrow (he didn’t need a light to see it as Rock-types had night vision due to them living in the darkest atmospheres) staring at it with an intensity in his gaze. He needed to remember what he was fighting for.

He needed to remember the good times and the bad. He needed to think of her face – how her thick hands smelled like saffron in the spring simply because she used it in everything. He needed to recall the ball Harry carved from a block of stone. He needed to remember how hard it’s all been.

So, what if this girl reminded him of memories others would rather forget. So, what if he felt like trembling at the thought she would be in his life. Who was to say she would be in the first place? He had a son once. He didn’t need a daughter to worry about. No, it didn’t matter if this child was part of the group, now. She was Pat’s responsibility. He saved the girl once before, and even that wasn’t required of him. He was content leaving this to pat. He had to be. He-

Harry’s eyes caught a glimpse of brightness in the dark. As he sat up in the bed, squinting across the room at a corner, he noticed something very peculiar. There, hung to the wall by a knife catching the glint of outside crystals shining light into his burrow, was a piece of parchment with a quality to it even Harry could see being feet away from it.

He stood from the bed, walking toward the parchment. Normally, the process of making paper made the sheet visibly rough. Yet as Harry touched a claw to the paper, it felt as smooth as polished quartz. And the handwriting contained in the paper looked pristine, the kind of writing you’d imagine belonged to a princess.

Harry’s hand tense across the page. This letter didn’t come from one of the thieves. In fact, he recognized the handwriting from articles posted in the Center’s newspapers. Looking towards the bottom, Harry confirmed his suspicion. There, scrawled with big, curly letters in black ink, sat the printed signature of one Councilwoman Azazel of the Fairy District.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys and gals!
> 
> It’s Begonias! The story that I can’t seem to sit down and write. Hopefully, my writing’s better than my time-management.
> 
> Firstly, I’m going to make special chapters for the Peacekeepers of the story! You can find these by scrolling to the back of the chapter log and selecting it. There’s more information below, but just know that, if you want chronological order, I’ll be telling you which one to visit after the, “Author’s Notes” section by something like this: (Go To Special Chapter X) With that in mind,
> 
> (Go to Special Chapter 1)
> 
> I wanted this story to be a splice of the perspectives of the Center’s Peacekeepers, Lynn and Lepher, and the thieves. But doing it that way, it feels like it messes with the pacing of the thieves’ story (which is the main group, if you didn’t know). I’ve been trying to find places in the story to splice them together to make it flow nicely, but I’ve concluded that I have no clue where that will be. So, I’ve decided to make the officer’s portions “Special Chapters” at the end of the fic. I’ll tell you guys when the story meshes with an Officer Chapter if you wanted to read it and keep up with the times, but since they mess with the tempo of the story just throwing it into the center makes it off. So, I’m making them optional… in a way.
> 
> They contribute to the overall story as they are characters that affect the story eventually, but their contributions happen within "Thieves' Guild" or "Mainline" chapters, so they aren't entirely needed. It’s simply a nicety, and I love writing for these characters. So, I’m making these chapters their own thing for those who want more. Enjoy it if you want!
> 
> Until next chapter, like, comment, and subscribe!
> 
> I’ll see you guys in the next chapter!


	6. The Fairy District

# Chapter VI

# The Fairy District

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**HARRY’S HEAD** spun through the night. Seconds turned to minutes turned to hours of thought. Sleep seemed like a foreign concept to the tyranitar as he lied there in the silence of the burrow. The howling winds reverberating off the stony walls were nothing compared to his deep thoughts, contemplating the letter. He read through the words so many times he could almost recite the document by memory:

_Members of the Thieves’ Guild,_

_This letter may come as a shock to you, but word of your abilities has reached my ears. Your skills in thieving are matched only to your ability to remain hidden, but just as a rose leaves behind fallen petals, you leave footprints in the sand._

_Do not be alarmed – I am not writing this letter from a place of malice. Although my fellow councilmembers would rather you caught after your… escapade at one of the Center’s banks, I see an opportunity._

_Come to the Fairy District – to the home built into the tallest tree – at your earliest convenience. You will not be stopped from entering our borders, nor will you be ambushed. You will be allowed entrance into my district. I merely wish to discuss a course of action that will benefit both our interests, whatever those may be. We will discuss details when I see you next._

_May our paths cross soon,_

_\- Analise Azazel of the Council of Seven_

This letter… clearly whoever placed it – whether that be Azazel or one of her fairy-type minions –meant for Harry to see it first. Why else place it specifically in his burrow? This being the case, Azazel – a member on the Council of Seven – knew this specific burrow hidden in this specific pit out of an entire district belonged to Harry.

 _They probably followed the girl through the Rock District,_ Harry thought, lying in his bed with a tense scowl towards the rocky ceiling. _They’ve clearly been watching us for a while… How did no one notice?_

Harry groaned aloud. As much as his scales itched with the thought that someone managed to enter his burrow, that couldn’t be his focus. A bigger question needed answering – what did Azazel want?

He could always speculate she wanted to kill the group, but that felt wrong. With a Council member knowing about them, Steel Enforcers could have entered the burrow and killed them all in their sleep. Instead, Azazel invited them into her district. But even then… Why invite a band of thieves into the Fairy District? She knew they were criminals, so why lead them around the very citizens who put her in power?

On top of that, she knew Harry was a rock-type living in the Rock District. After what she helped orchestrate, she had to know he loathed her very existence. Asking to meet him was like knowingly inviting your murderer into a room. For Azazel to meet with Harry risk her own personal safety. Could she be desperate? And if so, why?

Regardless of all the questions, one thing seemed clear: she didn’t want to hurt them… Well, not yet anyway. She wanted something else. Too bad the letter glossed over that part.

Harry felt like crumpling the paper in his claws. Azazel clearly wanted a deal, but Harry only saw the words as the treacherous scribbles of a murderer. She withheld details. Her intentions hid treachery to be sure. Some ulterior motive existed, but what could it be?

Harry’s eyes drifted across the room to a mirror along the rocky wall. Behind that mirror sat a small, hidden hole hardly big enough for a child to hide in. Putting the letter inside – continue with his life as though Azazel never contacted him – appealed greatly. Or better yet, what if he confronted her alone?

A smile came to Harry as he lied upon the hay-stuffed mattress. He imagined the shock on her face as the tyranitar arrived without his group. He knew exactly what to say, how satisfied he would be finally coming face-to-face with Azazel.

Yet… Azazel might expect such an attack. Assuming she had no plan? Only a fool thought that way. Dealing with her himself would condemn years of self-restraint. And sitting on his hands to do nothing about it felt the same way. Afterall, she knew where the thieves lived. Harry didn’t want to imagine the kind of mess brought about by ignoring Azazel’s letter.

Harry knew one option remained: telling the group. And even before confronting them, he knew each of their reactions. Afterall, Drags summed up everything perfectly.

They’d hesitate for a few seconds in their own, personal ways yet see the potential for a deal. Working for a councilmember could mean escaping the City. One by one, they’d agree to see Azazel. They wanted too dearly to escape the Wall – to be free; almost nothing felt like too high a risk.

And as much as Harry loathed the idea of working with Azazel, the more he thought of it, working with her meant getting closer to his own goal. Afterall, it put him one step closer to the entire Council.

As Harry crumpled the page, tossing it to the stony floor of his cave, he made up his mind. The ends justified any risk – the group would agree. They needed to see Azazel.

~ ~ ~

As Harry talked to each member, they reacted exactly how he thought: hesitant at first, but eventually they all agreed meeting with Azazel needed to be their priority. The group spent the day preparing for their meeting: sharpening swords and gathering supplies just in case things got nasty. Pat in particular helped Arianna, “retrieving” a small, leather belt and sheath to carry Harry’s rusted knife. (He reluctantly agreed to let her keep the blade for protection.) And when night covered the pit’s catwalks with its shadowy veil, the group met at the base of the ramp for Harry’s briefing.

“Alright,” Harry began. “We don’t know why Azazel wants to meet with us or what to expect when we get to the Fairy District.

“On one hand, she may want to hire us. If this is the case, she may get us one step closer to escaping. On the other hand, this could still be a trap. So just in case she does want to bash our skulls in, once we get to the district, we need to stay focused and vigilant. Watch and listen for anything suspicious. And above all, don’t wander off. No one wants to be a Steel Enforcer’s toothpick.”

As Harry finished, he waited a few seconds for any questions within the group. And just as it may happen, Pat and Arianna’s hands both shot up. First, Harry nodded in Pat’s direction.

“Was this really necessary?” Pat questioned, raising her eyebrow, and placing a paw on her hip. “I mean, we all agreed to this. We know it might be a trap. Why the speech?”

“I was talking for our new member,” Harry said. “This is going to be her first job with us, so I thought we’d need to cover some ground rules.”

Pat nodded a few times as her face lit up in recognition. “Right right. Alright, boss-man.”

“Boss-man?” Randal whispered to Pat. “Really?”

“Shut it, meat-face,” Pat mumbled through a gritted smile.

Harry sighed at their shenanigans before pointing to Arianna who still had her hand raised. “What’s your question, kid?”

Arianna lowered her hand and began nervously fiddling with her head-leaf. “So… this Azazel lady is a member of some group? What group is she a part of?”

Harry blinked a couple times in disbelief. “What?” he asked. “You mean to tell me that you don’t know about the Council of Seven?”

Arianna shook her head swiftly in response. Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose in a mix of shock and irritation. This ignorant girl joined their group… how?

“I’ll explain as we walk,” Pat said, almost as if in response to Harry’s look. She slowly bowed her head to the tyranitar. “Does that work for you, all-knowing one?”

Arianna stifled a laugh. As Harry’s serious gaze met hers, the girl’s head turned to look over the pit’s edge and into the void below.

Harry forced a laugh. “Funny,” he said to Pat.

The tyranitar motioned his head towards the horizon’s Center’s city skyline in the distance. And with a wink from Pat to the steenee girl, the group – Pat, Randal, Joy, and the newly-joined Arianna – followed.

While the thieves weaved through the multitude of wooden posts and massive holes in the ground, Pat explained the Council to the steenee. As they passed through the berry-stained stone archway, the border between the Rock District and the Center, Pat went on to explain how the group of thieves desired above all to eventually escape the City’s walls and venture into the outside.

As this long-winded explanation went on, Randal and Joy walked amongst themselves – behind both Harry at the front and Pat and Arianna who trailed just behind him.

“How’re you doing?” Randal asked softly, slithering his tongue playfully against the tip of the granbull’s ear as if trying to get a rise out of her. “We haven’t talked much since last night. You feeling alright?”

Joy knew the big bat only meant to be sweet, but she pressed a paw to his face and shortly said, “Not now.”

“What?” the noivern asked, side-stepping Joy’s paw. He modulated his pitch to a level high enough that only Pat (who was preoccupied explaining things to Arianna) and Joy could hear him: their frequency. His brows knitted together as he scowled upwards at the Center’s passing towers. “Is something bothering you?”

Joy refrained from responding. She continued to stare long and hard at the cold path below her padded feet. Truthfully, this job felt like a high dive into a small pool. She knew the need to meet with Azazel; for the sake of her future with Randal they needed to take every possible opportunity to escape the City. But the idea of going back into the Fairy District, after everything that happened, made Pat want to run.

Her life in the Fairy District use to remind her of a hurricane – the good moments were always surrounded by the bad.

She remembered the smell the newly-fallen leaves that wafted into her room on autumn mornings – hear the wind blowing through the branches of their forested district. Waking up in her bed as a snubble felt peaceful enough. Every morning, she pulled away the covers before toddling to the window, watching from the second story of her tree-house home as the fairy-types of their district passed. They walked across cobblestone paths that snaking between trees. And every tree held small homes at the base of their carved trunks.

Joy remembered the sight of her mother, constantly dashing around a spotless kitchen for ingredients. She always wore a pink, flowery apron whilst creating the tastiest dishes in the entire district. Rich pokemon from the Fire and Ice Districts craved her products, always drooling and purchasing. It made surviving in their district easy.

Her father (a plump mawile with a wrinkled face) was the same way, specializing in pastries and candies and constantly moving across the kitchen. Yet his products never sold as well as her mother’s. There was a running joke between them that he only married her to steal her secrets, and there may have been some truth to that.

Their family craft was cooking, and in the Fairy District, your craft defined your value. The only jobs for pokemon consisted of creating specialty products: anything any normal pokemon couldn’t make. Dedication and practice to a craft defined your purpose.

Being in the Fairy District, customs demanded that children take on one of their parents’ crafts. Yet unlike both of her parents whose craft consisted of slaving over a stove, Joy couldn’t stand cooking. The smells of the raw spices overwhelmed her nose. And the way parents ignored everything around them when they prepared dishes constantly ate at Joy. She never felt interested in cooking: ever.

She remembered that defining moment of her childhood where everything fell into perspective. She sat in that small living room of her home, on a beaten cushion spread across the floor. She sat at the of a polished board for a table which barely came off the floor. Across the table stared the disappointed faces of her mother, shimmering with an uncaring look in the light of a candle placed in the center of the table. Her father didn’t even bother to show up, putting the creation of candies over his own daughter. He left Joy tracing the rings in the wooden ceiling, facing the wrath of her mother.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” Joy’s mother asked sharply. “You’re failing school, you’re not learning our craft, and now you’ve been kicked out for beating another student with a ruler!”

“It wasn’t like that,” Joy mumbled almost as if to herself.

“Then try and explain to me why his mother is pressing charges?” her mother demanded, planting a fist on the table. Joy winced as she felt the surface creak under her mother’s force.

“Him and his friends are always pushing me around… That pixie got what he deserved…”

Joy felt the table tremble again as her mother slammed her fist on its surface. “Don’t you dare use that language in this home! Ever!” She took a sharp breath before continuing.

“Why do you think he’s been bullying you in the first place? Because you’re a dead-beat! Your fur is never kempt, you waste all your time sneaking around the district, and you never take the time to learn our craft – _your_ craft! How do you expect to survive if you spend all your time as a disappointment?”

Joy’s lip twinged with anger. She continued to stare above, saying, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. But why the hell would I want to become some chef when all it does for you is give you an excuse to ignore your daughter?”

“Speak up, Bianca,” she snapped, calling Joy by her birth name.

“You heard me!” Joy snapped, facing her mother with a snarl. “All you ever do is cook and sleep! When was the last time you did anything for someone else?”

“Don’t talk to me that way! I am still your mother!”

“What does that word mean to you?” Joy asked, her volume continuing to rise. She felt tears streak down her face as her pent-up emotions spilled from her maw. “To me a mother means being kind! Loving! Looking after your child! Instead, you’re so wrapped up in baking bread with the crispiest damn crust and the softest crumb that I could scream, and you’d think it was just an oven timer going off!”

As Joy finished, her chest ached from the emotional twister spiraling inside her. These emotions built within her for years upon years of frustration. All the bullying and ignoring – she couldn’t stand it for a second longer. And staring at her mother’s disappointed face as she continued to lecture her sent Joy over the top.

Yet her mother continued to seethe with a curled lip, sitting up and puffing her chest as if to intimidate the girl. “I’m exhausted from all the neighbors asking me when I’m going to get a handle on my own child,” she snapped. “I’m starting to get comments from customers over you refusing to take up our craft! You should have started when you were ten for Arceus’ sake! But here you are at fourteen-years with nothing to show!”

“I’m not learning to cook a damn thing!” Joy roared, shooting from her seat. “So, you can just forget it and let me live in peace!”

“That’s unacceptable!” her mother shouted. “You’re a part of this family! I didn’t spend fourteen years of my life raising you so you could steal anything and everything!”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to be a part of this family!”

Those words… Even now, those words rang through the granbull’s head; they became a mixture of every hateful emotion that ever flowed through her said in one final sentence. And as Joy shouted those words, everything else just clicked.

Her parents didn’t care about her. If they did, her father would have been there, and her mother wouldn’t have made everything about her. No, they used Joy: she was nothing more than a way of preserving their secrets and passing on knowledge. And when Joy lashed out, they became concerned with their business rather than her.

Joy couldn’t remember another word in the fight. She only recollected storming upstairs for her bag and walking away from the Fairy District, swearing to never look back. And up until now, that’s exactly what she did. Going back…

As Joy continued to walk along the Center’s pathway, she felt the noivern’s wings enwrap her in an embrace. He glimpsed past Joy’s calm, unmoving scowl and into all her internal doubts and fears. He only needed to listen to Joy’s racing heart and slow, unsteady breaths to know she ached.

“You’re fine,” Randal said at their frequency.

Joy took a deep breath, letting Randal cuddle her in the Center’s streets while they walked. “You know how I hate putting our relationship on display,” Joy whispered with a light smile.

“And I don’t like showing my wings,” Randal said, referring to the ripped scars along his wings that kept him from flying. “Besides: Pat’s too busy teaching the girl, and Harry’s focused thinking of ways to pulverize that fairy lady.”

“I’m positive he isn’t.”

Randal shrugged as he pressed his cheek to Joy’s. As much as she hated displaying their relationship, she couldn’t help but lean into Randal. His embrace helped sooth her worries. And in a minute, she managed to push out the past and enjoy the simplest of breezes blowing through the alley.

“Forget about this district,” Randal said. “Forget about the mission. Let’s just leave and find a quiet place to dance in the moonlight.”

“You know I have to do this,” Joy said as she pressed the noivern’s wings away. “That letter doesn’t tell Harry enough about what Azazel’s home looks like. He’ll be lost without me as his guide.”

Randal swung around to Joy’s side. He forced a frown as he shook his head. “Nah, I think Harry’ll be fine.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what you think,” Joy said. “The group needs me.”

“Fine fine,” Randal said. “Just don’t go on a rampage while we’re there. Apparently, this is a stealth mission. Absolutely no violence unless quote-unquote, ‘absolutely necessary’.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Joy assured. “I’ll be fine.”

As much as she appreciated Randal for bringing her spirits up and distracting her for a time, she still had to enter that district – look upon old buildings she never wanted to see. Entering the district was unavoidable, bringing back feelings of worry and frustration. She just had to push through and finish the mission. Nothing else could be done.

~ ~ ~

The group approached a set of wrought-iron gates whose bars spun together like literal vines. Melded into the gate’s center like a lock sat a crystal-like chunk surrounding a black, swirling void. A red, brick wall about five times as tall as Harry – stretching in both directions as far as the group could see – divided the Center from the Fairy District. Further down the wall, splatters of berries and tacked ribbons of blue and pink plastered the brick. Above the wall, Harry could make out the vague, shadowy forms of tall trees stretching towards the clouds above blocked out the starry sky. An audible gasp sounded from behind as Arianna stared in wide-eyed amazement at the trees.

“They’re so big!” she exclaimed with a wide grin. “I didn’t think trees got that tall!”

“They burn easy, too,” Joy stated, contrasting Ariana’s happiness with a scowl. She marched ahead of Harry and towards the gate.

“That’s a strange thing to know,” Pat said, tails raised and a paw on her hip.

“How do we want to get in?” Harry began, watching the gates with caution. “If we trust Azazel’s word then no one should stop us from going through the gates. On the other hand, if-”

As the tyranitar attempted to formulate a plan, the granbull stepped towards the iron gates and pressed her finger to the gemstone Her paw glowed a soft shade of pink while the stone began to hum. Its void-like center filled with the pink glow of Joy’s hand. Then, a click reverberated into the chilly air and the stone came loose from the gate. The iron bars squeaked on their hinges as Joy nudged the gates open.

“Let’s get this over with,” Joy stated shortly. She continued with a brisk pace into the district, not bothering a look to Harry.

“Really?” Harry said in a deadpanned tone.

Randal took a step towards Harry and shrugged. “Take it easy on her,” he said. “This is the last place she wants to be.”

Arianna glanced between Joy and Harry with an arched brow. “Was she supposed to just leave?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer yet found himself alone with the girl. Looking ahead, Pat and Randal already took to following the Granbull into the city, leaving him with Arianna.

The tyranitar sighed into the air. “Fine,” he said, turning his attention to Arianna. “Apparently, we’ll be going into the district through here. But first things first, you, being the new member, need to remember some rules.”

It wasn’t like Harry _wanted_ to explain anything to Arianna; in fact, out of everyone to explain things to this girl, Pat would have been his choice. Afterall, Pat invited the girl to the team. But _someone_ needed to explain how things worked, and Pat left Harry with the job.

Arianna nodded, her eyes glowing with a willingness to hear out Harry. “So, what do I need to know?”

“Rule one: stay next to me,” Harry said, pointing a claw to his side.

“I thought I was supposed to stay next to Pat,” Arianna said.

Harry shot a scowl ahead at the teammates who continued to leave them behind. “Clearly that’s not happening,” the tyranitar grumbled, “so you’ll be with me.

“Rule two: don’t talk.”

“Don’t talk? Like, ever?”

“Rule three: don’t ask questions. What I say goes. Period.

“If you follow those rules, you can stay with the group. Understand?”

Arianna pursed her lips and crossed her arms. Harry stood there, waiting for a protest from the girl. Afterall, she was still a kid. Harry expected complaints. Yet none came. As displeased as she looked, Arianna stayed silent and nodded begrudgingly.

Harry nodded in satisfaction. As much as he hated bringing a child on missions, at least Arianna heeded his words. And despite not admitting to it, Harry felt thankful for it.

Harry led Arianna ahead as they set off in a sprint. They passed the vine-like gates and began their walk in the Fairy District towards Azazel’s home.

~ ~ ~

Inside the district, the walls of their world faded behind thick trees whose carved insides sheltered large homes and small families of the Fairy District. The canopy of leaves overhead rustled in the chilly winds that blew through the district. The leaves also blocked most of the moon, only allowing ribbons of light to fade across the worn path of steppingstones underfoot. And no matter where the tyranitar looked, he could see fluorescent mushrooms illuminating the winding paths through tall grass and taller trees. This district seemed like something out of a fairytale.

Seeing a place like this put Harry into an uneasy state. His fists clenched and his eyes surveyed the area for any signs of distress, but he found none. No pokemon staying up late with worry, no Steel Enforcers patrolling the streets, and most certainly no pokemon concerning themselves with the affairs of other districts. A true paradise built on the backs of others. Harry considered vomiting.

“They’re like a bunch of tree forts,” Randal said with a smirk. His gaze traced every house with gleeful swings of his tail. “They must have some fun times here!”

“Not really,” Joy said in a bland tone. Displeasure flooded her face as she kept her eyes fixated on a single tree on the horizon.

Arianna, however, seemed enamored with the place. As she kept a pace next to Harry, her eyes glowed in the mushroom light with wonder. She wobbled with each step as if her thoughts dwelled more on her surroundings rather than walking. But the thing Harry noticed most was the awe that shone from her eyes: a child-like wonder he forgot existed.

“It’s so pretty here…” Arianna whispered to Harry. “Are all the other districts like this one?”

Harry rolled his eyes, not willing to entertain the question. He couldn’t be distracted by childish amazement. Other matters demanded his focus.

He kept an eye on the rear and an ear out for anything strange, though that became difficult in a new district as everything felt strange and foreign. The pokemon of this district seemed to keep a multitude of alien devices and objects on decks built outside their homes. These decks were places the pokemon worked, using their crafts to create. The problem was that most of these objects were lethal if wielded correctly.

Yet for all the items left out, no pokemon sat nearby. Apart from a couple lit windows, most of the tree interiors mirrored the blackened sky.

“They’re all asleep,” Joy assured Harry. “Walls are thin here, so there’s a curfew in the Fairy District to keep everything quiet. Most pokemon don’t question it as they prefer a good night’s sleep to being ridiculed by neighbors for being out.”

Harry nodded in response, relaxing his shoulders and keeping an eye out. Yet not long after, Arianna gasped in wonder as the group stopped at the base of an orange-leaved tree.

The tree stretched upwards past the clouds, although its base seemed to be the only part carved out for a small home. The house merged with the tree itself. What should have been corners in the wooden structure folded seamlessly against the bark, like the base itself grew in a geometric shape before shooting upwards. Light fluttered through circular windows outside onto a wooden porch.

“This is the place,” Joy stated. “The tallest tree in the district, housing the most pretentious member of the district.”

“How pretty!” Pat beamed, staring upwards at the orange tufts above. She traced the tree’s trunk all the way to the polished deck, spotting the array of marble vases filled with wilting flowers. Her tails drooped just as much as the flowers as her lip curled. “That’s… less-so.”

Pat stepped up a set of wooden steps to get a closer look. Picking one of the flowers from the vase, she pulled it close to her eyes. “Azazel doesn’t make for a good gardener, does she? These look about ready to revolt.”

“Poor things,” Arianna said, stepping quickly up the deck. She knelt next to the flowers and cradled one in her hands. “They only need something to drink. Then they’d be so pretty-looking.”

“Feel free to take them off Azazel’s paws,” Randal smirked. “I’m sure she’s rich enough to replace them.”

Harry nodded to a red-stained door imbedded in the tree’s bark, bringing the group’s attention back to their mission. “She might be in there,” he said.

“R-right,” Pat said as her ears flopped from a shake of her head. “We need to focus on the mission.

“Randal, is anyone inside?”

Randal nodded to Pat as he closed his eyes and steadied his breath. His body slithered onto the floor as he pressed his ear to the wood. With a few twitches of his ear, his tail began to wave across the ground.

“There’s… one pokemon… They’re walking with something made of glass… I think they’re a quadruped.”

“No way!” Arianna said in astonishment. “You can tell all of that just by listening to the floor?”

“He’s trying to listen,” Harry said in a stern tone to the steenee. “He needs complete silence or-”

“Harry!” Randal snapped. “Do you want me to hear what’s in the tree fort or not?”

“I-” Harry began when Randal shot him a toothy grimace. Harry threw up his arms in surrender.

Randal continued to listen and wag his tail, saying, “Alright. I don’t hear anyone else, so I think it’s just the quadrupedal one.”

“Then there’s no trouble, right?” Pat asked. “There’s no trap waiting for us in-”

“Hold on…” Randal interrupted, pressing his ear harder against the ground. “They stopped… and… they’re running around in there…”

“What?” Harry questioned. “Running? Running why?”

“I don’t know! Do I look like the psychic in the group?”

“Is she coming this way?” Pat questioned. “She couldn’t have heard us through the door, right?”

“Well, I can’t be sure if your voice is the only thing I can hear!” Randal snapped aloud before receiving a multitude of shushes from everyone but Arianna.

“Harry?” Arianna beckoned in an audible tone. Harry looked to see her pointing towards the door. Then, a click sounded from the other side. The door swung open, allowing the light inside to flutter onto the deck.

The group stood in a stunned scene of stupidity. Before the group of five stood a female pokemon at least three feet in height. Her soft, pink fur glistened in the light of a candle she held in her ribbon-like feelers. She also wore a fuzzy, pink bath robe adorned with a flowery sash tied around her waist.

Upon seeing the five thieves, the sylveon gave an unapproving blank stare. “You are The Thieves’ Guild?” she asked.

Randal, still snaked cross the ground with his ear to the floor, said, “What about it?”

Pat planted a paw in the crease between his back and his wings sending him into a grimacing mess. She stood straight as she brushed herself off in an attempt at regaining composure.

“Patricia,” Pat introduced with an extended paw to the pokemon. “And since you seem to live in this tree, you must be Analise Azazel.”

The sylveon stepped out from her home and onto the deck, ignoring Pat’s paw entirely and walking towards Harry. “Shameful,” she stated simply.

“Excuse me?” Harry questioned with a stern look.

“I could hear the stamping of your massive feet from my kitchen,” Azazel stated simply. “And the dragon breathes much too loudly to accomplish any sort of stealth. If this is the dedication you employ in your daily jobs, I am unimpressed.”

“Unimpressed?” Harry repeated once more. He couldn’t believe what reached his ear canals. Just where did this snobby, little dweeb get off accusing them of a shameful performance? And where did she earn the right of being correct?

Azazel sighed aloud before turning back to the door. “Come inside,” she said. “I was just making a cup of tea when-”

The sylveon reached the door before her eyes met with the small steenee’s. “Curious,” she said with a fidgeting ear. Her feeler reached out to the steenee’s hand, stained in dirt from touching the flower. “I don’t remember hiring a gardener. Is she yours?”

“She’s one of our members,” Pat stated.

“Thought we could use someone to water the plants back at base,” Randal stated with a snarky smile.

Pat drove another paw into his back for the comment. “Damn it, Pat!” he hollered. “What was that for?!”

“Is it possible for you to say something intelligent for once?” Pat pleaded in a whisper.

“How about we go inside,” Harry proposed over the whispers, pushing past Pat and Randal with a scowl to Azazel. “As pretty as your district is, we should be getting down to business.”

“Agreed,” Azazel stated. With a gesture of her feelers, she ushered the tyranitar into the building. “We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I’ll make this quick for all you lovely people.
> 
> I’ve got the entire conversation between the thieves and Azazel written out already. It would have been in this chapter, but it made the whole thing a bit of a read. And that brings me to my point:
> 
> I wanted to get your opinions on whether you prefer longer chapters or shorter ones. It’s been a question that’s been bugging me for a bit, whether you guys prefer more reading in a chapter as opposed to shorter ones like what’s above. Anyways, I just thought I’d put that out there. Your vote could determine future chapter lengths depending on how many I get!
> 
> I’ll let you all go now! Thanks for reading, everyone! I’ll see you all in the next chapter!


	7. Proposition of a Pixie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Thieves' Guild meet with Councilwoman Azazel to discuss her proposition.

# Chapter VI

# The Fairy District

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**UPON STEPPING** through the doorway, Harry found himself surprised to learn he preferred the outside of Azazel’s home to the interior.

The house seemed small and quaint compared to the grand outside. The group found themselves inside a small living room barely suitable for three pokemon, let alone a giant dirt lizard, a dragon, and a gang of cautious thieves. A white, fuzzy loveseat stood in the middle of the room. Infront of the loveseat, a polished slab of wood sat on the floor (Harry guessed that to be the coffee table) holding a vase surrounded by wilted petals.

Hallways branched out from the room, one of which Azazel strode through. Most of the group, having been left in the living room, scattered themselves around the room. Randal squatted down next to the Granbull who made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she could) on the edge of the loveseat, as close to the door as possible. Pat took to the middle of the loveseat and allowed Arianna to take the far left. Harry stood opposite to Randal, leaving the front of the room for Azazel to sit.

“Does anyone care for some tea?” Azazel asked, appearing in the hallway with a tray filled with glasses and a single tea pot.

Arianna’s hand shot up from the other edge of the seat but Harry, standing next to her with a huff, pushed her hand down in denial. He wanted Arianna to understand they were not guests but business partners, while not giving Azazel the chance of poisoning their group.

“We’re fine,” Harry stated. “Why don’t we get down to business instead?”

“Suit yourselves,” Azazel stated, pouring herself a cup before taking a seat across from the group. She set the tea and cups on the table, just in reach of the group as she took a sip of the steaming tea. “But you really should take a glass and make yourselves comfortable. On a night like tonight, a cup of tea calms the nerves.”

“We’ll pass,” Harry said, though he seemed to speak only for himself as Joy took up one of the glasses and poured herself a cup.

“Why did you call us here?” Joy asked sternly before taking a sip. “For the leader of the Fairy District to invite thieves into her home is unheard of. Clearly you’re planning something.”

“Are you looking for a fight?” Randal asked with a sneer, craning his neck forward eagerly.

“No no no,” Azazel laughed. “Although my… fellow councilpersons would rather I fight you, I don’t wish for a fight. I only want to recruit the services of such notorious thieves such as yourselves.”

“Your letter said as much,” Pat stated with a twitch of her ears.

“But why?” Arianna began.

“Kid,” Harry warned. “Remember our rule?”

“It’s fine,” Azazel stated calmly, raising a ribbon for Harry to stop. A smile spread across her face. “What’s your name, girl?”

“Arianna,” the steenee answered.

Harry scowled at Arianna’s answer. Not three minutes in and she already broke a rule. What was she doing?

“You’re a steenee, yes?” Azazel asked. “Does that mean you were at one point a slave? Tell me: how does a I’m curious how a slave makes her way into a group of thieves.”

Arianna’s hands tightened as she planted them on her thighs. “Well…” she began. “I’m more curious why someone like you wants to hire us. You’re one of the masters running the city, right? Why hire thieves if you can get whatever you wanted on your own?”

Azazel chuckled at the question, leaning back onto her haunches as she took another sip of tea. “I guess that would seem confusing.”

Harry was losing his patience with this back-and-forth nonsense. Why was she being so chatty with them? Was she stalling them? Before Harry could interject, Joy beat him to it.

“We’re not here to talk over tea,” she stated blandly. “We’re here for a job. Either hire us or we’ll leave.”

Azazel took another sip of her tea, yet she wore a distasteful grimace, almost as if in seconds the tea turned sour. “You used to be a Fairy-type, yes?” Azazel asked. “Surely you can appreciate a simple moment such as this before spoiling it with chatter of work.”

“Talk,” Harry demanded.

Azazel stared into her tea with disgust before setting the cup down. “Fine,” she stated. “If you want to talk of work, we’ll talk.

“Clearly I’m in need of a group of thieves to steal something for me.”

“What kind of something?” Arianna asked. “Jewels? Treasure?”

“It’s not nearly that simple, and I can’t risk explaining just yet.”

“Try,” Joy ordered.

“A group of thieves doesn’t need to know what it is they’re taking, only that they were tasked with doing so. On top of that, I’m unsure your group is up to the challenge.”

“We’re up to anything!” Randal protested.

“You know who we are, right?” Pat questioned, gesturing to the other members around the room. “Didn’t you come to us in the first place?”

“Just because I sought your help doesn’t mean I think you’re up to the job,” Azazel said. “And after that mediocre performance on my front porch I have my reasons to be suspicious.”

“You have your reasons?” Harry asked with a sharp laugh. His scales ruffle themselves in protest. “You’re one to talk, Pixie. After what your council pulled back in my district, you’re lucky we’re even talking.”

At those words, only the trees rustling in the wind made a sound. Most of the eyes in the room shifted uncomfortably as Harry stood there, visibly irate yet stiff as a statue. Azazel’s face drained of emotion as she stared blankly towards the table.

“That was a mistake,” Azazel stated softly.

“Do you honestly believe that?” Harry asked. “Or are those just words?”

“This is beside the point,” Joy told Harry, not moving to face him in the slightest.

“I think it’s dead-on. She talks about trust when her council kills out of fear.”

Joy shot a glare towards Harry as she urged, “There’s a better time for this! For now, focus on the mission.”

Harry continued to stare sharply at Azazel. She deserved more than a few words. She deserved so much more. But in the end, he decided Joy was right on this one. There would be a time for Azazel, but not now. With a brush of his cloak, Harry leaned backwards against the wall and huffed a good deal of his frustration away.

“So, you don’t trust us,” Harry said with a scowl. “Then why are we here?”

Azazel blinked twice before downing her tea and standing. “I… have a plan,” she said, trying to regain her calmness with another cup of tea. “For the job I want to hire you for, there can be no mistakes. And to prove you can retrieve the item, there’s something else I want you to get first.”

Azazel stood from the coffee table and made her way to a small desk along the wall. Opening the desk, among the multitude of papers which were quickly crumpled and stuffed inside, she procured a hand-sketched drawing of what appeared to be an orb.

“What’s that?” Pat asked.

“A Wonder Orb,” Arianna stated.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the girl. The name made the object sound like a child’s toy, yet Azazel wanted one meaning it held some importance. Did the kid know something useful?

“A what?” Randal questioned.

“It’s an orb that makes the sky change,” Arianna explained. “Using it makes the sun come out or the clouds rainy.”

“That’s… one explanation, I guess,” Azazel said. “Back before we had a working network of pipes, pokemon would use these orbs. They’d summon massive clouds to water crops or strong gusts of wind to clear the skies. These orbs were an essential part of living in the city. But eventually they became outdated. With every district having specific jobs suited to their abilities, it created an efficiency that Wonder Orbs couldn’t provide. They became outdated and rare commodities of the past.”

“That’s all fine and dandy,” Harry began, “but what does that matter to us? You want one. Sure. Where do we find it?”

“The one in particular I want you to get is one called a Rainy Orb.”

“Did a child name it?” Randal questioned.

Azazel ignored Randal’s comment and said, “If you want one, you’ll need to take it from the Water District.”

Wide eyes washed over the group as Harry crossed his arms. “The Water District?” he asked. “What Water District?”

“There’s no such thing,” Joy stated firmly.

“Of course, there is,” Azazel said. She gestured a feeler to the tea saying, “You’re drinking water from the district. They’re in charge of pumping water throughout the entire city.”

“Come on!” Harry insisted. “There’s no way that the Water District exists. We would have heard rumors or stories or something.”

“They didn’t exist to begin with. Before the Grass and Bug Districts were turned into farmers, the Water-types were forced underground to create a simple solution to plumbing.”

“Let’s say the Water District really does exist,” Joy said. “Where is it?”

Azazel took another sip of tea before saying, “It’s underneath the Fire District.”

“That’s unbelievable,” Pat interjected. A scowl plastered itself to her face as she continued. “As nervous as Fire District pokemon are about their own type disadvantages, why would they stay above the Water District? That’d seem like suicide to them.”

“That’s not your concern,” Azazel stated. “All you need to know is that there is a district underneath the Fire where you can find this Wonder Orb.”

“Where do we find the Wonder Orb?” Joy asked.

“Last I heard, the water-types safeguard it as a treasure. The current leader of their district should have it. From what I’ve heard, his name is Indigo Dreg: a pokemon with a sharp and sturdy bite. He’s as hard to bargain with as an angry tauros, so I suggest you take it without him knowing.”

“One last thing about this totally real district,” Pat began with a smug smile. “If it’s actually underneath the Fire District, would they be the only ones who can access it or is there some secret passageway underneath the Center?”

Azazel’s lip twitched in irritation as she sat upright, exuding a powerful aura about her. Pat’s sneer turned into a pensive stare. Clearly, Azazel’s look made Pat think twice about mocking the councilmember.

“Any pollution the city creates is filtered into the Poison District. They clean the water before pumping it back into the Water District. As such, service tunnel exists in case the piping bursts. I suggest you use that as your access point into the Water District.”

“Anything else we should know?” Harry asked.

Azazel took one last sip of her tea before saying, “Poison District pokemon hate outsiders. You should know that if they find you inside their district, they will try to arrest you – might even attempt to kill you.”

“Your concern is heartwarming,” Pat said with a long stretch. “But we can handle them.”

“You can until you can’t,” Azazel scowled. “Don’t take this job lightly. If you fail, you lose credibility with me. You also lose whatever reward that brought you here in the first place.”

“On that note,” Harry began, stepping closer towards Azazel. “What’s in it for us?”

“That depends on what it is you want. As your steenee member pointed out, I can retrieve most things within the City.”

“Can you get us through the Wall?” Pat asked.

Her question met silence from the sylveon. As the group all stared onwards to Azazel, she merely stared back with a blank expression.

Azazel’s gaze drifted as she rubbed her chin. “Is that why you took those documents…?” she said beneath her breath.

The sylveon’s ears drooped downwards as her face stiffened. She became lost in her own thoughts. Harry could only guess what swirled behind that contemplative gaze, not that he cared to.

Pat stretched a paw out and tapped Azazel on the shoulder. “Well?” she urged.

“It’s an… odd request,” Azazel said. “To go beyond the walls is… considered suicide by most.”

“We know all about the stories,” Randal yawned, leaning on the back of Joy’s seat with droopy eyes. “‘Murderous ferals wandering the world, forcing the last of civilization to live behind walls of stone’. ‘A desolate world filled with charred roads and blackened trees, uninhabitable by all’. ‘Certain death for all that leave the safety of the City’. Yadda yadda.”

“We wouldn’t be here if we believed the lies your newspapers tell,” Joy stated.

“So just tell us if there’s a way out of the city,” Randal insisted with a scowl.

“And if you can get us out,” Pat added.

Azazel pursed her lips. “It’s an odd request…” she repeated. “Well, there is a way out of the city. No wall is built without its back door… As for whether I can get you out, I believe we can make that arrangement.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” Harry noted.

Out of everything this lady told them – from the unknown Water District to these fantastical ‘Wonder Orbs’ – giving them a way out seemed the most unlikely. And Azazel’s lack of certainty dampened Harry’s hopes.

“On another note, I’d like to go back to Arianna’s point,” Joy stated. She leaned back into the chair, rapping her claws on her arm with interest, yet never removing her bitter gaze from Azazel. “Why are you hiring us in the first place? You’re a member of the council. You can step over anyone and everyone to get what you want. So, why hire thieves?”

“She’s right,” Pat nodded. “What can we get you that you can’t get yourself? Seems pretty suspicious if you ask me.”

Randal perked up his head, the line of questioning finally lifting his interest. “Are you setting up a trap?” he asked.

Azazel stared across the faces of the members with an unamused frown. “This is highly unprofessional,” she stated, setting her cup onto the table. “Surely you don’t interrogate everyone who requests your services.”

“We’re not normally face-to-face with clients,” Harry justified. “And we’ve never had to deal with a pokemon as skilled at lying as you before.”

“My business is my own. I have nothing more to tell you. You can either take the job and reap the rewards or leave this home having wasted an opportunity to leave the city. Your choice.”

The group all looked to each other for an answer. If it were up to Harry, things would end swiftly. Being a councilmember, Azazel was a known liar and cheat. On top of that, death stained her reputation. There would be no deal – no mission at all. Just justice. On the other hand, Harry had to remember why he came to Azazel in the first place. Should he squander this chance merely to satiate his own personal vendetta?

“Alright,” Harry answered, extending a hand to Azazel. “You have a deal.”

Azazel smiled at Harry. “Splendid,” she said, slipping her feeler into Harry’s hand for a shake. “In that case-”

Her voice cut as she recoiled from the tyranitar. In a split second, Harry whipped his rapier from its sheath, leveling it with her eyes. The tyranitar stamped across the table, shattering the glass beneath his feet and splashing tea across the room.

Arianna jumped back into her chair in shock. Everyone else simply sat there – Joy’s expression unchanged, Randal with a wide grin, and Pat sighing aloud – not bothering to stop the tyranitar.

Azazel crept backwards, away from the tip of Harry’s blade, though he continued moving closer until her back pressed against the wall.

“You made yourself clear, Pixie. So, allow me the same courtesy,” Harry stated with a flash of menace. “I know your Council inside and out. You would murder entire districts simply to better your own sad, little lives. You’d do anything to preserve yourselves. So, I’ll tell you something you’ll be sure to understand:

“If you try screwing us over in any way – if we wander into a trap that stinks of you or your tea – you better make sure it kills us. If not, we’ll be back. Understand?”

Harry tapped the blade to the bottom of Azazel’s chin, forcing her to look upwards and into his eyes. Yet despite her backing against the wall, sweat beading her forehead, she kept a calmed face. “You don’t scare me, tyranitar. Although, after the execution of your entire district, I can understand why you’re trying to intimidate me.”

Harry’s face devolved into a dark snarl as gruesome images shot through his mind. He brought the blade closer to Azazel’s neck, eliciting a yelp from the sylveon.

“Harry!” Joy demanded, shooting to his side. She grabbed his wrist and ripped his rusted sword away. “Don’t.”

Harry kept his eyes fixed on Azazel’s body. “She’s fine,” Harry assured with a scowl. He wrung his wrist from Joy’s grip, sheathing his sword in a single motion. “I didn’t even nick her, though she deserves more than that.”

“It’s fine,” Azazel assured. She rubbed her neck, regaining her composure. “I understand the frustration. I would hate anyone involved in the execution of my district, as well.”

Joy scowled towards the sylveon, her jaw clearly tightening from those words. She wanted Azazel to know, just like Harry did, that this partnership did not make them friends. They were two separate parties assisting each other in furthering their own agendas. Nothing more.

As Joy and Harry stepped off the table, retaking their spots, Harry shot one last warning glare. Azazel ignored the gaze entirely while she cleared her throat.

“Now, then,” she began. “As I was saying, if your group manages to prove your worth by retrieving the wonder orb from the Water District, I’ll hire you all for the real job. On completion of that job, I will give to you the means to escape the city for good. You’ll be free to do whatever you want on the outside.”

“Good,” Harry said, setting his hand on the end of his sword hilt. “As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, we’ll hold up ours.”

“Then come back here when you have the Wonder Orb. I shall be awaiting your success.”

“Then we’re done here,” Harry announced.

The tyranitar stepped away from the group, not bothering to wait. He walked with a stiff posture towards the door, briskly exiting the home into the frosty night. One by one, everyone got up and followed the tyranitar out of the house, leaving Azazel alone at the table.

The moment the door shut, Azazel released her breath, heaving on the floor in a shaking mess.

“Keep it together,” she whispered to herself. “You’re fine. He didn’t kill you, so pick yourself up.”

She sat there for a bit, heavily breathing and whispering assurances to herself, before standing up. She hobbled over to the window, pulling away the curtains to watch the thieves walk away in the mushroom light. Having confirmed they had indeed left her, Azazel hobbled off down the hallway and up a flight of stairs.

Stopping in front of a door, she removed a key from her robes, unlocking the door to enter a disheveled room.

Documents and unsent letters littered the wooden floorboards. A blanket sat on top of a cushion at the back of the room, situated in front of a small table like the one in the living room. On the table, a still puddle of drool sat, drenching another letter Azazel previously worked upon.

Azazel stopped in front of a set of drawers situated on the side of the door. Gripping the center compartment, she opened it to reveal even more papers, shuffling through them until she reached a document hidden at the very bottom.

She removed the paper and fell to her rear with a thud. She stared at the page for what felt like ages. The page held words written with a poor penmanship, and the document burst with what read like gibberish to most. Yet she knew what looked like nonsense was actually a secret code: code she could read.

Knowing what she possessed comforted her, sending waves of warmth throughout her body. All those months spent huddled over a desk – all those years of being stepped on and treated as less – none of it would go to waste. Soon, very soon, she would have retribution.

 _Thank you, tyranitar,_ she thought, staring through the page. _Just a few more days, and it’ll be finished. The Prime Districts still don’t realize it. Just a few more days and none of my citizens will ever have to worry again. Just a few more days…_

~ ~ ~

A sort of loud silence hung in the air as the group walked through the Fairy District’s iron-vined gates. Everyone wanted to talk about Azazel and the plan moving forward, yet no one wanted to be the one to speak first. Harry wondered whether he was at-fault. After all, his hardened scowl stood out like a flame in the dark, and he never took his hand from the hilt of his sword – not until their hunched forms found themselves passing underneath the rocky archway of the Rock District.

As their bodies left the lantern-light of the Center’s streets, walking on the moonlit fields of stone and clay, Pat spoke first with, “So we’re going through with this, right?”

“Depends on whether we can trust her,” Joy said. “She’s still a member of the Council, after all.”

“I say we do it,” Randal said. “We can take on a bunch of Sludgies even if it is a trap.”

“Poison-types aren’t the concern,” Harry reminded. “We’re talking about being ambushed by Steel Enforcers the second we step into whatever passageway Azazel told us about.”

Randal shrugged. “Well, we can take them as well. What’s a few Steel Enforcers compared to us?”

“Besides,” Pat started. “None of the Steel Enforcers like the Poison District enough to wait for us. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about them. It’ll be smooth sailing the second we get into the district: a textbook smash and grab.”

“We’re going through with this,” Harry said with a stern look in his eyes. “Azazel knows where we live – she’s been in our burrows. Not trusting her means leaving the district.”

“Can’t we just move to a different hole?” Pat asked. “We’ve got hundreds across the district, right?”

“No,” Joy stated with a furrowed brow. “This isn’t like going against the Dusk. They have limited supplies and better things to do than finding one group of thieves. The Council, on the other hand, has unlimited time and resources at their disposal. For them to know we’re in the Rock District – all they’d need is to start a manhunt and we’d be found within days.”

Pat’s ears dropped as she placed a paw to her chin. “You’re right. So, we trust her, or we pack up.”

“Not, ‘or’,” Harry began. “Like I said, we’re trusting her. No discussion.”

“Do we even know what we’re looking for?” Randal asked. “Like, what does a, ‘Wonder Orb’ even look like?”

Most of the group looked about each other for a response but found only dumbfounded faces.

“It’s an orb, right?” Harry asked, unsure of even that much. “I mean, that’s its namesake.”

“Ahem,” Arianna called from Harry’s side, marching in front of her confused members with a straightened posture. She looked like a miniature sergeant, stepping in front of her battalion to give an order. “If I may,” she said in an almost proud voice. “A Rainy Orb is a blue orb about as big as Harry’s hand. You can tell it’s a Rainy Orb by the water spinning around in the middle of it.”

Randal’s tail wagged with delight at Arianna’s words. “Well, that’s cool,” he said.

“Focus,” Joy scolded with a whip of her fingers to Randal’s arm. He recoiled an inch from the granbull, rubbing his arm with a small, “Damn…”

“Well, at least we know what we’re looking for,” Pat said.

“There’s nothing more to discuss,” Joy stated. “Me and Harry will stay up tonight thinking of where to look for this tunnel. Tomorrow, we leave for the Poison District for some reconnaissance.”

Pat outstretched her arms and gave a long yawn. “I can get on board with that,” she stated.

After a moment, Randal gave a yawn as well. “Damn it, Pat,” he said mid-yawn with a smirk. “Now you’ve got me all tired.”

“And that’s such a big issue?” Pat laughed. “Honestly, don’t dragons sleep for days on their piles of gold? Why does a yawn suddenly get you riled up?”

“That’s a myth, and you know it!”

As the two bickered and began walking once more, Harry tapped Arianna’s shoulder. She spun to her heels to meet his face, smiling, and generally enjoying herself. Yet Harry’s stern look sucked the joy from her face.

“What is it?” Arianna asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry waited a second for the rest of the group to be out of earshot (other than Randal whose definition of “earshot” meant more or less than a mile) before speaking: “Alright, kid,” he said. “You broke our rule.”

Arianna stood next to Harry, glancing up at him with a questioning look. “Is that why you’re mad?”

Harry crossed his arms and stared down at the girl with irritation in his eyes. “You broke our rule,” he repeated. “No talking. Remember?”

“Of course, I do. No wandering, no talking, and no questioning,” Arianna said, tapping her wrist once for every rule. “That’s basically what you told me, and I remembered.”

“And you talked to Azazel after I told you not to.”

“And?” Arianna asked, unfazed by Harry’s question.

Harry stood there in stunned shock. Wasn’t this the same girl who pleaded with the tyranitar to let her join – the same girl who begged him to stay silent after she stole his knife? Why was it that she acted rebellious now?

“What kind of game are you playing?” Harry questioned.

Arianna smiled up at Harry. “If you don’t know then you aren’t part of it,” she said. “That’s what Momma used to tell me whenever she’d play games with her friends.”

“I’m not playing any game,” Harry said.

“Sure, you are,” Arianna insisted. “When you told me to be quiet, you were telling me the rules of the game. But those weren’t the rules.”

Harry sighed at the girl. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

Arianna giggled. “It’s simple: the rules you told me were no wandering, talking, or questioning you. You let me believe those were the rules of the game, but everyone else are playing by different rules. They never wandered off, but they talked a lot and sometimes questioned you.”

“You think this is a game?” Harry asked, not out of malice or frustration, but genuinely trying to understand.

“Momma told me everything is: especially surviving. There are rules to it that you have to follow in order to win. And when I win this game, it means I get to stay with you guys.”

“But if this is a game, you aren’t winning,” Harry insisted.

“Sure, I am,” Arianna smiled. “I broke _your_ rules, but I played with the group’s rules, meaning I could talk as long as I was being helpful. Pat and Joy both liked my question, so I played right.”

“And you think that’ll keep you with the group?” Harry asked.

“Yup,” Arianna smiled. “After all, you can’t kick me out if the others see I’m helping.”

Harry stood there in disbelief. In her own backwards way, Arianna was right. She seemed so feeble when the tyranitar first met her. But now? Harry realized had smarts.

“You figured all this out by yourself, huh?” Harry asked.

“Momma used to give me good advice,” Arianna beamed.

As the steenee bowed to the tyranitar, playfully taunting him, Harry found himself torn. The idea of having a little girl as a member drove him towards pacing frustration. A child would just get in everyone’s way. They had no place amongst thieves.

But now, as he tried to understand what it was Arianna spoke about, Harry realized she had smarts hiding behind the eyes of a kid. He underestimated her, and he found himself surprised as a result.

“You know that _I_ still don’t think you belong on the team, right?” Harry asked.

“I know,” Arianna said. “That’s why I’m playing against you.”

“Against me?” Harry asked, not noticing the smirk that played across his lips.

“You’re my opponent,” Arianna said. “You want me gone, so you’re my…” Arianna’s voice trailed off. Her gaze met with the floor as she began sounding out: “a… av… aversy...”

“Adversary,” Harry finished for her.

The tyranitar thought for a second. Him competing with a child? He supposed weirder things had happened in his life, though none as silly as this. Regardless, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Alright,” Harry said. “If this is a game, I’ll give you a challenge.”

Arianna’s ears perked up as she side-eyed harry with a smile. “What kind of challenge?”

“During our mission to get the Wonder Orb, I want you to convince Joy you’re worth keeping around. You can do whatever it is you want: talk, act, dance, chase– whatever. If, by the end of the day, Joy admits you’re a valuable member of the group, I’ll accept you as a member. Deal?”

“What if I fail?” Arianna asked.

“You leave,” Harry said. “I still think you don’t belong in a group of thieves, but, if we put it to a vote, I’m outnumbered. So, if Joy thinks you’d work as a member, I’ll treat you like one. If she’s still indifferent, you’re off.”

Harry extended his hand out for Arianna’s. “Do we have a deal, kid?”

The steenee’s hand hung suspended at her side. Harry watched the contemplative gaze as Arianna stared back at the group who, by now, looked to be distant figures. The girl took a deep breath as she firmly planted her hand into Harry’s.

“Deal.”


	8. Special Chapter I: Enforcing Peace

# Special Chapter I

# Enforcing Peace

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**AS THE SUN** fell behind the soft, mossy wall of the Fairy District, passing pokemon made their way across the multi-colored, cobble-stone street, ignoring each others’ judging gazes. The pignite sat there, leaning against curled bars overgrown with vines and flowers. He stood at the edge of a dusty table whose surface looked as though it hadn’t been cleaned in months, though Ursaring Sergeant Lynn didn’t seem to mind.

The two Peacekeepers situated themselves at the end of the patio of a restaurant near the Fairy District that Lynn preferred. The ursaring read through today’s paper for the fifth time today, probably going over the list of thieves again or statements by Councilman Keres.

She drawled on a couple times today on the new curfew put in place, talking about it as if it were a dreadful thing, yet Keres defined it as, “a way to weed out the troublemakers.” It wouldn’t surprise the rookie if Lynn’s irritation with the curfew was out of laziness.

When the rookie started working with Lynn, he didn’t yet understand her workstyle. The mission they were called to showed him the Sergeant had experience to pass on – experience to turn him into a real-life Peacekeeper. She seemed so focused that day on her work that he assumed he would have nothing to worry about as far as Lynn went. But now, he understood how she worked all too well.

She was lazy, having spent the last few weeks sitting at a table and reading the day’s paper. They wasted hours waiting for Couriers to deliver jobs that were described as work, “only a Sergeant could handle.” Yet they either entailed looking around a building and saying, “There’s not enough evidence,” or task someone else with searching for the perpetrator.

As Peacekeepers, the rookie expected them to be doing something – anything. Instead, he found himself day in and out leaning against a rail, observing passersby, and guessing who they were based on how they looked.

The rookie would never admit it but looking at passing pokemon wasn’t only a game to him. He didn’t watch pokemon for the fun of it. He guessed in the hopes it would eventually give him an excuse to leave.

Suppose one day he played this guessing game and noticed a pokemon with a stalky build and messy hair whose bag was punctured by a knife. This pokemon had to be dangerous. They would need to be stopped, and who better than the newest member of the Peacekeepers, Cecil Lepher?

A smile spread across his face as cheers bounced off the insides of his mind. His stomach fluttered as he imagined a new, golden badge being pinned to the collar of his white vest, symbolizing he was no longer just a rookie, but a revered member of the Peacekeepers of the Center.

“What’s got your hopes up all of the sudden?” the gruff voice of Sergeant Lynn asked from across the table.

“What?” Lepher asked, his mind snapping back into reality.

Sergeant Lynn ruffled the paper, straightening out the creases before eyeing Lepher with a raised brow. “You’ve been sitting there, eyeing passersby for weeks. I want to know what you’re thinking about.”

Lepher’s eyes wandered across the dirtied, stone floor before he stared back towards the crowd. “It’s nothing,” he lied.

“See something interesting?” Lynn questioned. “Perhaps a criminal?”

“It’s not that… Although,” Lepher said, his internal gears visibly clicking at the mention of the tyranitar-led group. “It has been a while since those thieves broke into the bank. You talked about them as though they’re notorious here in the Center. So, shouldn’t we have heard something by now? Maybe a shop being robbed?”

“Stealing from regular pokemon is too simple for them,” Lynn said. “There’s not enough gain for pokemon of their caliber. If they wanted to steal something, they’d go after something bigger than bread.”

Lepher shook his head at the statement. “We still should have heard something,” he insisted.

Lynn said no more, staring motionlessly and contemplatively into the crowd of passing pokemon. In truth, she didn’t know what to say. The pignite was correct in questioning their lack of activity. There was always some kind of news on the “Thieves’ Guild” (a name the local Spit-fires and Ice-pops began using when referring to the infamous tyranitar-led group) – some break-in or overvalued family heirloom reported stolen. Yet over the past few weeks, nothing.

They were being careful. That much was clear. But why? Did they finally piss off the wrong pokemon? Maybe they got themselves killed?

Lynn smirked at the thought. She could entertain the idea all she wanted, but the truth was these thieves were comparable to the villain in a cheap, action novel: whenever you get the idea in your head that they might be gone, they kick you in the stomach, leaving you speechless.

Lynn leaned back in her chair once more and opened her paper, this time reading about the Ghost District switching their burial methods from single coffins to mass burials to combat the ongoing riots. Lynn couldn’t say she was surprised given the ongoing state of their city.

From above her paper, Lynn noticed Lepher falling back into his depressed lump against the iron railings. She couldn’t help but huff at the pignite. Here they were enjoying another temperate, peaceful day, and Lepher’s response was always a huff. Why couldn’t he enjoy the gifts he had been given? Was it his curse as a Spit-fire to ignore gifts that had been given? Or did he just crave more?

Lepher’s lips parted as though preparing to speak, yet he hesitated. Sergeant Lynn rolled her eyes and roughly flexed the paper before saying, “What?”

“You know, maybe if we…” the rookie began, sitting upright in his chair before biting his tongue. He hadn’t worked with Lynn exceedingly long but knew she would never fold.

“Say it or enjoy the weather,” Lynn stated. “Just stop looking so neurotic.”

“Just sitting here is bothering me,” Lepher blurted as though the words exploded out his mouth. “I mean, you’ve read that paper about eight times by now.”

“Five,” Lynn corrected, setting her gaze back at the paper. She leaned into the pages as if burying herself amongst the words. Yet Lepher continued.

“You’ve had to have read about the massive amount of rioting and stealing that’s going on in the city. It’s not just the “Thieves’ Guild” causing problems. So why are we just sitting here day in and day out waiting for a courier to give us a job? Why aren’t we out there on the street chasing the bad-guys instead of waiting for them to have gotten away with it before investigating?”

“Because the couriers always come,” Lynn simply said.

“That can’t be the whole truth,” Lepher said. He watched Lynn as she scanned her paper with growing irritation. Why wasn’t she looking at him? Couldn’t she take this thing seriously?

The pinite stood up from his chair and walked along the wall towards Lynn, attempting to get her attention by closing the gap. Her eyes didn’t waver an inch, continuing to scan the page of the paper as Lepher spoke. “Ma’am, when I was at the Fire-district’s Peacekeeper Academy, we were taught about Couriers. They’re supposed to tell us about crimes that are occurring: crimes like black market deals from the Dusk or the riots that keep appearing in newspapers. But every second I’ve been with you, the only jobs they seem to bring are jobs to sooth the rich pokemon’s worries or jobs telling us to investigate things that go nowhere. Tell me, why is it that after a month we’ve been working together, we haven’t received one job on something that’s happening? Why aren’t we stopping criminals before they commit a crime?”

Lynn waited a few seconds, letting the pignite simmer for a bit before tilting her paper and staring at the fuming pokemon. His brows were knitted in a worried stare, yet his jaw was clenched and firm, and ashes were sprinkling from his nostrils like snow.

“Anything else you want to get off your chest?” Lynn asked.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Lepher said, adding a, “Ma’am” to the end just to appease the Sergeant. A lazy effort but one Lynn would look over easily enough.

“What are you implying, _Rookie_?” Lynn questioned, using the word “rookie” like an insult on Lepher’s pride. “Are you saying I’m telling the Center’s couriers to give us easy missions simply because you’re green?”

Instead of responding vocally to Lynn, the pignite stared insistently towards her. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the insubordination. Where did he get off questioning her process?

“We all have a job, Spit-fire,” Lynn stated. “And at the end of the day, like it or not, that’s how the world works. You’re my rookie, and you’ll do exactly what I say we’re doing.”

“And today we’re sitting on our asses, right?” Lepher questioned.

“Exactly,” Lynn finished, turning the page of her paper to an article on rioting in the center. “And if you have a problem with that, I’m sure the other Spit-fires wouldn’t mind returning your silver spoon.”

“That’s-” Lepher sputtered, his cheeks turning a rosy shade as his green eyes wandered about the area. It was almost as if he were trying to catch a cruel gaze from surrounding pokemon.

“Come to think of it, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Lynn continued, crossing her arms, and eyeing the pignite with a calculative gaze. “Why transfer here in the first place?”

Lepher didn’t face Lynn, staring towards the floor with a worried frown pasted to his face. He could only stand there and worry about what Lynn was digging at. He could walk away right now, and honestly the idea stayed in his head a dangerous amount of time, but what would the consequences be?

“You grew up in a place lined with gold,” Lynn continued, “and slaves at your beck and call – trained to be a Peacekeeper there, too – yet you gave it all up to come here. Why would anyone surrender a life of luxury for a shitty little city that owes you nothing? Seems like a pretty mindless move to me.”

“I have reasons,” Lepher countered, yet didn’t face the ursaring. Instead, his eyes found themselves resting on the rusted railings of the porch's exit.

“What reasons? Were the pillows too fluffy? Or perhaps Momma was tired of spoon-feeding you?”

Lepher couldn’t help but smile coldly at the comment. “I have my reasons for leaving,” he reiterated.

“And they are…?” Lynn pressed.

“With all due respect, Ma’am, that’s none of your business. And even if I told you, it’s not like you or any of the other pokemon here could understand.”

Lynn shot up from the chair at the comment, towering over Lepher with a daring glare. “Why is that, Rookie? Are our Normie brains too small and feral for the snobby Spit-fires?”

Silence followed the two pokemon as they met each other’s unending gazes. The pignite had little idea what Sergeant Lynn was trying to accomplish. Did she want him to pour his guts out for her?

“Word of advice, Lepher,” Lynn warned. “I’m in a foul mood today. Push me again, and I will watch you hang.”

Deathly silence followed Lynn’s words. Surrounding pokemon halted their daily routines to stare at the two and what appeared to be an imminent brawl, and Lepher felt every eye. Normally he could handle it. But now?

Lepher broke eye contact and started towards the gate, leaving Sergeant Lynn a heaving hulk. She hardly bothered to respond, and so did he. The pignite undid the rusty bolt on the gate and turned the corner, walking off and away from the police sergeant.

Lynn’s murderous gaze never left the back of Lepher’s head until it turned a corner and out of view. She violently tore the paper off the table, unfolding it so quickly a massive split formed down the middle. Lynn’s upper lip began to twitch as she balled her fists together. 

Lynn’s hand darted downwards toward the black pouch tied around her vest’s belt and retrieved a hand-full of black berries, consuming them at a rapid pace. With a deep inhalation, she felt her nerves spread across her body as the berry-juices scattered across her tongue, tingling at the inside of her mouth. She slumped back into the chair a furry lump of irritation, huffing under her breath, “Spit-fires.”

~ ~ ~

Oddly enough, Lepher’s rebellious act brought him more joy than he thought it would. The feelings of guilt were further left behind with each step onto chilled cobblestone. It quickly occurred to him that Lynn was no longer a priority. He was free to do things his own way. Admittedly, he had no clue what he was doing. But he could learn.

No more standing around being useless. Now, Lepher was searching for something to do – actively protecting the pokemon as a Peacekeeper. This felt like the right thing to be doing. A bright smile planted itself on Lepher’s face just thinking about the other pokemon.

Lepher walked with a straightened back in a commanding way, puffing out his bulky chest, striding though what little sun the rest of the day could muster. Sure, his shift was almost over. But that couldn’t stop him: not now.

Pokemon could clearly see the winged badge pinned neatly against his vest. To Lepher, it was just as much a mark of pride as it was a warning to pokemon. Messing around in his presence would result in an arrest. It instilled a silent giddiness in his throat.

He paced the streets, almost challenging anyone to cause trouble. As he watched the pokemon around him, he waited – dared – for someone to do something they’d regret. He’d be there to stop them this time.

As he walked, he continued to notice the pointing and staring that had always been thrown his way. But were they scornful or joyful? Maybe they were happy to see an officer doing something. Perhaps they felt protected having someone like him here. Their whispers changed in Lepher’s mind from judging words to comforted phrases.

They had always spoken ill of him. But now, the words shifted in his mind to praise. Instead of, “What’s a Spit-fire doing in the district?” They were saying, “He’s here to help us, and I feel safer knowing it.”

Kids passing him by were no longer pointing towards the elephant in the room. Instead, they were looking at someone respectable – someone there to help. They had to be happy to see him here. They had to!

As Lepher turned the corner, his feet stopped on dampened stone. There, standing in the middle of a sort of clearing between the brick buildings, stood a group of steel pokemon blocking the path.

They all yipped and hollered from the side of the street as two of them – a metagross and a lucario – tossed around what appeared to be a grey, fuzzy ball between each other.

Lepher had to admit – it was a fun spectacle. These two pokemon threw the ball in all sorts of ways – never the same way twice: underhanded, psychically thrown, granny toss, you name it. When it was their turn to catch, they would fake a blunder and allow the ball to get close to the floor, taunting their fellow pokemon who would gasp in anticipation of a fumble. And at the last second, they would scoop the ball out of the air and continue their game.

Judging by their type, Lepher assumed they were Steel Enforcers, which wasn’t that bad a guess seeing as they were close to the Noble Districts (Fire, Fairy, and Ice Districts) – their usual area of operation.

“Hello, officers!” Lepher called out to the group, flashing his golden-winged badge. “Would you guys step aside? I’m on patrol right now and need to get by.”

As the lucario caught the ball, he held it underneath his arm in a hold as to make sure it didn’t fall. The lucario hesitated to respond, looking over Lepher curiously before the metagross intervened with, “Good evening Mr.…”

“Lepher,” the rookie said with a simple nod to the metagross. He reached a hand towards the pokemon but pulled back. “Oh, my bad,” he said in response to the metagross’ lack of appendages.

In this district, it was considered inconsiderate to offer a shake with pokemon who walked on all-fours. Lepher never understood why, seeing as in the Fire District, they normally just shook whatever they could and moved on to envy one-another’s possessions. But here, you could easily be clobbered for doing such a thing.

However, the metagross must have understood the cultural gap, having summoned a visible, pink aura to grip Lepher’s hand. They shook a couple of times before the metagross grinned.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured. “I’ve hung around enough fire-types to know how you guys do things.”

“You’re a rookie, right?” the lucario questioned, gesturing to Lepher’s barren collar of his jacket.

“Yeah,” Lepher admitted. “Just joined the Peacekeepers a little over a month ago.”

The lucario snapped his free fingers before he pointed at Lepher in recognition. “I know you. You’re Lynn’s new fish – the transfer from the Fire District.

“That’s me,” Lepher acknowledged. He had to admit, he hated the idea of being referred to as “Lynn’s new fish” but he wasn’t about to call the lucario out and kill the mood. Afterall, Steel Enforcers and Peacekeepers are practically job relatives or something, so they probably didn’t mean anything by it.

“I’m actually doing a patrol right now,” Lepher admitted. “Getting out on the streets and hunting down criminals.”

“Really?” the lucario asked. “Well, so are we.”

“In fact,” the metagross started, looking towards the lucario, “We just so happened to have caught one fairly recently.”

“One could say we had a ball of a time,” the lucario said, chuckling half-way through the statement. He squeezed the ball under his arm a couple of times as the two howled with laughter at a joke Lepher hadn’t understood.

Then, the strangest thing occurred Lepher could hardly have believed. In reaction to the lucario’s wringing, the ball… yipped as if in pain.

_Really, Lepher?_ the rookie thought, chiding himself. _The ball yipped?_

Lepher felt stupid for even thinking of such a thing. Like a ball could yip. Maybe it was a screech in the lucario’s laugh Lepher mistook as a yelp. But wait. Was that…

The color once present in Lepher’s face had all but drained as he stared at what appeared to be a curled, fluffy tail tucked closely into the grey ball. Features Lepher had previously glossed over stood out like a welt on his skin. Padded feet, arms tucked inwards, and massive ears barely sticking out from behind the lucario all belonged to this ball.

“What’s that in your arms?” Lepher questioned.

“Our catch of the day,” the lucario stated, grabbing the pokemon by the tail and holding it out from Lepher to see a thin, shaking minccino.

“Found this one stealing from one of the local merchants,” the metagross said.

“Thought we’d have some fun with the little thief.”

Lepher stared over the minccino with shock. Words escaped him. Only a single phrase jolted through his mind in this moment: “What the hell”.

In the Fire District, Lepher was taught Steel Enforcers could be rough with others and to stay out of their way, but abusing someone? That was unheard of. Steel Enforcers were keepers of the peace – defenders of the pokemon. But now? They tossed a pokemon like it were some sort of game.

The minccino looked as though it may cry. It shuddered in the lucario’s grip yet didn’t bother attempting an escape. Why wasn’t it fighting them? Did it feel that helpless?

That thought brought him back to reality.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lepher questioned.

It took a few seconds for the steel-types to register what was said, yet even that made them tilt their heads in confusion.

“What?” the lucario questioned.

“You’re Steel Enforcers, right? Why are you guys throwing that minccino around?”

“That thing is a thief,” the metagross started, side eyeing Lepher as if puzzled by the rookie’s statement. “You understand that, right?”

“And that gives you the right to toss them around?” Lepher questioned.

“You’re an odd, little Spit-fire, aren’t you?” a Steel Enforcer asked, moving out from the crowd. Each step shook the earth itself, causing Lepher’s stomach to question what it is he was fighting for.

As Lepher stared towards the voice, the pokemon’s body casted a shadow over him. Its fingers were like daggers, and its biceps as thick as boulders. Lepher had to lean backwards to look into the steely eyes of the aggron.

“That minccino there?” the steel-type began. “Might not believe it at first glance, but that Normie is a genuine thief. Stole a couple of oran berries from a local vendor a couple blocks back. Saw it with my own eyes, I did.”

“And… that gives you the right to throw him around?” Lepher asked, though he found it came off more like a genuine question than an accusatory one.

With that question, the aggron bent over Lepher and stared him down maliciously. The Steel Enforcer spread its dagger-like claws in the light, bouncing the rays at Lepher who winced from the blinding light.

Yet his body didn’t waver. He had to admit – the same fear from the bank still existed in his stomach, begging him to turn tail and run from this Steel Enforcer. But at the same time, his mind bounced back to his old home – to a pokemon he considered a friend that he’d abandoned in their time of need. He couldn’t leave this minccino in the same way.

The pignite stood his ground, meeting the aggron’s gaze with a fiery puff of his snout. “Do you think just because I’m a rookie I’ll back off? Do you think I’ll look the other way just because you look meaner than me?”

Lepher straightened his posture and tightened his fists, saying, “I’ll take the minccino into custody, and we can go our separate ways.”

A thunderous laugh bellowed from deep within the aggron’s chest. Apparently, he found more amusement in the situation than Lepher.

“What’s so funny?” Lepher questioned.

“A Spit-fire standing up for a Normie? I just didn’t think that was possible.”

“All I want is the minccino.”

The aggron nodded a couple of times to himself before leveling his claws at Lepher’s chest. The pignite felt his chest ripple and seize, wanting to get as far away from the pointed claws as it could, yet Lepher didn’t move.

“And what stops me from killing you where you stand, hm?” the aggron questioned.

“Lepher!” a gruff voice hollered from behind. Turning around, Lepher’s brain was torn between relief and worry at the sight of his ursaring sergeant, stomping through the alleyway towards the two.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Lynn was going to do. Would she clobber the Steel Enforcer for threatening a Peacekeeper – her rookie? Would she even notice the minccino, still dangling by the tail in the lucario’s grip? Or would she ignore it all entirely and scold him for walking away?

Upon seeing the ursaring, the aggron stepped away from Lepher with open arms towards Lynn. “Sergeant,” he said with a new, cheery expression. “It’s been some time.”

“I’m not here to talk, Alastor,” Lynn stated calmly, stopping at Lepher’s side. “Just grabbing my Rookie.”

“Lynn,” the aggron began. “Your rookie should know not to interfere with the affairs of Steel Enforcers. You know how it is for us Steel Enforcers. Unlike your rookie, we deal with deadly criminals all the time. We wouldn’t want him getting mortally wounded on the job, would we?”

“I understand,” Lynn began. She tried to sound as professional as possible yet Lepher could also hear distain tainting her voice. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience my rookie may have caused you.”

“Inconvenience?” Lepher questioned. “They’re abusing another pokemon!”

“Not now, Lepher,” Lynn warned with a vicious flash of her teeth. Yet he had no intention of stopping.

“You’re gonna let them get away with this, aren’t you?” Lepher shouted in disbelief, his nostrils flaring with frustration. “Sergeant-” Yet he could hardly get that last word out Lynn’s claws wrapped themselves around Lepher’s vest, jerking him towards her muzzle.

“If you want to keep your job, shut the fuck up!” she hissed. “Understand?!”

With that, Lynn threw the pignite to the floor where he landed on his backside in shock. Not only was she going to let this slide, but she threatened his job, too? How the hell did she become Sergeant of the Peacekeepers?

“Once again, I’m sorry for my rookie,” Lynn said to the aggron. “I’ll make sure he learns his place in the world. You won’t have any problems with him from here on out, I guarantee it.”

The aggron hummed aloud, rapping his steely claws against his jaw with a metallic clatter in each tap. As he peered down at Lepher, he smiled a sickening smile that made the pignite’s insides curl. “We’re done here,” the aggron stated, turning back towards his group. He raised a finger into the air and spun it around a couple of times before the group parted to let him take the lead. Yet before they left, Lynn had one last thing to say.

“Alastor,” Lynn called. As the aggron turned towards her, Lynn said, “Don’t threaten my rookie again.” As she finished, Lynn stuck out her right-hand thumb and jabbed it into the left side of her chest.

Lepher watched the gesture in confusion, not understanding what it meant. Judging by the sharp movements, he could only assume it was a threat. Yet the aggron simply smiled and nodded, saying, “That’s completely up to your Rookie.”

With a final wave, the Steel Enforcers started down the alleyway with the minccino in tow. As they turned the corner, Lepher caught a final glimpse of the lucario getting ready to throw their victim once more.

Lepher attempted to shoot up to his feet, wanting desperately to take off after them. Yet Lynn planted her foot against Lepher’s shoulder, pinning him to the dusty cobblestone.

“What the hell?” Lepher barked. Yet upon seeing Lynn’s twitching lip and intense scowl, the only sound to escape his mouth were short breaths. Lynn waited for the aggron to pass out of earshot before turning on Lepher.

“What was that?!” she spat, speckling Lepher’s face in blackened saliva. “When I told you that Steel Enforcers won’t attack a peacekeeper for name-calling, did you think that meant they wouldn’t attack you _at all_?!”

Against the pignite’s better judgement, he opened his mouth to speak. Yet he was stopped as Lynn pressed her foot against his chest, restricting his breath. He could hardly breathe let alone speak.

“I’m talking now! You’re just going to lie there and listen! Understand?” Lepher gave no response, struggling against the ursaring’s weight to rip her foot from his chest, yet she was both too heavy and strong to make any progress. At Lepher’s lack of a response, Lynn pressed harder, eliciting massive pain from Lepher’s chest as his breathing stopped entirely. “Do you understand, yes or no?!”

Lepher quickly nodded, desperate enough to comply if it meant getting oxygen. Lynn removed her foot from his chest and watched with a look of spite as Lepher rolled over, gasping through a hacking fit for air.

“You’ve officially pissed me off, Lepher! Maybe I could have handled the constant pouting! You think I’m being lazy? Fine!

“But you running off like that, abandoning your partner because you didn’t like how they were handling things? It was borderline stupid! And then you had to make it asinine by challenging a Steel Enforcer’s right to do what he wants!”

“They don’t have the right to do that!” Lepher growled, his voice mimicking the pain in his chest.

“Let me tell you this, Spit-fire!” Lynn continued, jabbing her finger at Lepher’s back. “In this world, we all have pokemon we need to obey! No matter what you’re doing or what you think, when your supervisor says, “jump”, you have no damn choice but to say, “How high”! For you, that supervisor is me!

“You can sit there and scowl at passing pokemon all damn day for all I care! But if I tell you we’ll be sitting on our asses, guess what you’ll be doing?!”

As Lynn finished, her breath was heavy and her muscles tense. She blinked a few times before turning back to the black sack on her belt, procuring another handful of black berries. While she slowly chewed, her tensed body relaxed as she heaved a sigh, visibly savoring the taste of them.

When Lepher caught his breath once again, his focus turned towards the street the Steel Enforcers had turned onto. “What’s gonna happen to the minccino?” he asked he Sergeant.

“That’s none of our concern,” Lynn said with a scowl. “Especially not yours. You just focus on listening to orders, understand?”

Lepher scoffed at the ursaring. “How can you say that? Don’t you care at all about the pokemon of this city?”

Lepher watched the ursaring hesitantly, expecting her to shout again or press him to the street. Yet she merely tightened her fist and shut her eyes. It was almost as if the question irritated her more than aggravated.

“I’d like to think I’m a fair pokemon,” Lynn stated with a surprisingly calm tone. “So, I’m giving you this one opportunity.”

“Opportunity?” Lepher asked. “For what?”

“I’m giving you your only chance to get out ahead,” Lynn stated. “Ask me, and I’ll get you transferred back to your own district.”

“My own district?” Lepher questioned. “I came here by choice. Why would I want to go back?”

“It’s your guarantee you’ll have a job by the end of the month,” Lynn stated. “Today, you crossed a line anyone born in this district knows no to cross. You don’t challenge the Steel Enforcers.

“I’m offering you the opportunity to keep your job. Go back to the Fire District and live in a paradise where the only crimes are in novels.

“Or you can stay here and risk making your last mistake. Because if you pull the same shit you did today, like it or not, I’ll burn your Spit-fire ass so bad not even your own people will let you stay a Peacekeeper.”

Lynn popped a few more berries in her mouth before stating, “I’ll give you until the end of the week to make your choice. Anything passed that, and you’re fired. Understand?”

“Sergeant-” Lepher tried to say, but Lynn was finished. She dusted the dirt off her stained white vest before starting down the road. She turned a corner and was gone.

Lepher was left with a pit in his stomach. Her words cut deep, making him feel as shallow as a puddle. Did she truly mean to take his job away? After all that work and sacrifice, could she really take it away in the blink of an eye?

Lepher’s gaze turned back towards the alleyway that the Steel Enforcers had left from. If he could find them, challenging them again would probably mean suicide. Yet as he pictured the shuddering minccino being tossed through the air like a sack, another face clouded his mind – one of a saddened nature – one that would never glance at him again.

He could still feel the light strokes of her leaves against his back, assuring him things would work out. He remembered the warm embrace and safety he felt in her friendly arms. Yet every time he envisioned her face, she could never look at him.

No, he couldn’t give in. Even if he never found the minccino again, he could never repeat his past mistakes. Regardless of his fear of losing this job, he couldn’t simply abandon someone in need. Even if he never found the minccino, at least he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup guys? So, this came out WAY later than I wanted it to. Regardless, it’s out now!
> 
> Hope you liked Lepher thus far because this isn’t the end of him OR Lynn! I intend to make them characters with their own story, so get comfortable!
> 
> Just in case you forgot, CHAPTER 6 IS NEXT!!! That or Special Chapter 2 depending on personal choice.


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